


Eat a dictionary

by Dancingdog



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angels and Demons, Asexual Castiel, Asexual Character, Cas is a tease, Donald Trump is mentioned too, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Multi, President Misha, Secret Relationship, Short Fics, Sick Sam, Wing Kink, lots of relationships, possessive!dean, prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-08-20 09:37:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 25,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8244628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dancingdog/pseuds/Dancingdog
Summary: A place to store all my word prompt ficlets. Each chapter will have its own warning if it needs one. Will never be complete. Requests encouraged ;)1. Lab coat - Destiel2. Show - Destiel3. Costumes - Destiel4. Comic con - Cockles5. Flu - Sabriel6. Misunderstanding - Destiel7. Backseat - Cockles8. Summer - Gabriel/Castiel/Sam/Dean9. First Date - Destiel10. Haircut - Destiel11. Birds - Destiel12. President - Cockles





	1. Lab coat

"Do you think it looks acceptable? You don't think it's too loose-fitting? I don't believe the Professor would be too happy if my sleeves caught the samples. Maybe I shouldn't have bought it online. I'm sure I could've ordered it directly from the Veterinary department."

Castiel pulled a face as he scrutinised the newly-purchased lab coat through his reflection in the window. He whirled on his heel in an attempt to see the back, frowning when the bottom of the coat flared out slightly before coming to rest just above his knees once more.

Upon receiving no response from his boyfriend, Cas glanced at Dean through the window, raising an eyebrow when he spotted the other man's gaze roaming over his entire body, greedily drinking in every inch of his figure concealed by the buttoned-up lab coat.

"Dean?" Cas asked, snapping the engineering student out of his reverie.

"Hm?" Grunted Dean, eyes flitting to Cas' face and the vet student gasped quietly at the lust and desire sparkling in those forrest eyes.

"...Do you think it's a suitable size?" Cas murmured, mouth going dry as Dean slowly advanced on him, eyes glued to his boyfriend's body in a way that reminded Cas of a tiger stalking its prey.

As Dean stepped into his personal space, Castiel retreated unconsciously and his back knocked against one of the desks students usually worked on.

"I think it looks perfect on you, Cas," whispered Dean lowly and Cas was suddenly very glad he'd chosen to meet up with his lover in the empty laboratory.

"...You think it will please the Professor?" Cas gulped as he allowed his gaze to flicker over Dean's body briefly before returning to his face as though he hadn't been imagining what it would feel like to let Dean bend him over one of the desks.

"It pleases me greatly," growled Dean quietly as he planted his arms on the desk either side of Castiel, effectively trapping the older man in place.

Cas' eyes grew heavy lidded, voice dropping a few tones as he found himself drawn to his boyfriend's lips.

"In that case, I suppose I'll have to keep it," mumbled Cas huskily as Dean smirked and pressed his body flush with his boyfriend's, until the older man could feel his arousal pressing against him.

"I seem to have developed an... interest in your coat," rumbled Dean, lips brushing Cas' with every word.

The vet student gulped. "Maybe we should wait until we're back in Halls? This is supposed to be a sanitary area."

Dean smirked lazily as he scraped his teeth over Cas' bottom lip erotically.

"I'm not sure I can keep my hands off you that long, angel." 

Cas shivered as Dean rolled his hips slowly over his pelvis, until the edge of the desk bit uncomfortably into his back. Dean noticed Cas' slight shift and quickly hoisted his boyfriend onto the desk until he was standing between the shorter man's knees.

He trailed his hand down Castiel's chest, over his stomach and let it rest on his thigh.

"Dean, if someone catches us..." Whimpered Cas quietly, but his resolve was crumbling. The idea that Dean was going to take him here, in a public room he used regularly for learning, turned him on more than he'd like to admit.

The younger man leaned forwards and sucked tiny bruises into his neck, licking and nipping at the tender flesh of his throat.

"Something tells me you're not really bothered about that."

Cas caught Dean's lips with his own in a rough kiss. 

"Take it off," growled Dean as his hand wandered to the inside of Cas' thigh and his other hand curved around his waist.

"I thought you preferred it on me?" Teased Cas and Dean nipped at his jaw.

"I've decided it would look better on the floor."

Cas quirked an eyebrow before slowly moving to unbutton the top of the coat, Dean's gaze tracking every little movement of his delicate fingers around the press studs.

Cas was teasing his lover, moving incredibly slowly and making Dean wait for what he wanted. Dean waited as patiently as he could, although he couldn't help but claim Cas' lips again, needy and passionate as Cas came to the bottom of the coat.

The second he did, Dean unbuckled his boyfriend's belt and unzipped his trousers, refusing to give Castiel the chance to rid himself of the lab coat properly. 

He captured Cas' lips again, all dominance and heated arousal as he fumbled to undo his own jeans and belt.

Cas threw his arms around Dean's neck, tangling his fingers in the taller man's hair as Dean pressed closer, lining up their bodies.

When Dean rutted their pelvises together, Castiel hissed in pleasure before Dean's tongue was mapping out his mouth again, desperation and want clear in his movements. Cas tugged his lover closer.

"So hot and needy," murmured Dean into Castiel's mouth. "You're beautiful. I love you so much."

Cas shuddered at a particularly harsh roll of Dean's hips. 

"I love you too," he breathed before one of his hands slid to the soft curve of Dean's rump. He squeezed it.

"Harder," rumbled Cas and Dean let out a quiet moan as he ground their bodies together roughly and messily. He buried his face in Castiel's neck, listening to the aroused gasps and short breaths spilling from Cas' lips.

The ends of the lab coat swayed gently either side of them and Dean picked up the pace, rutting harder and faster as he felt Cas' grip on his shoulders and rear tighten.

A minute later, Cas let out a cry of bliss, quickly swallowed by Dean who claimed his lips harshly to prevent anyone from walking in on them to see what was going on. Dean's own pleasure washed over him shortly and his lover caught him easily, holding him close so he didn't just collapse to the floor.

They remained like that for a couple of minutes, holding one another and listening to each other's soothing breaths before Dean pressed his lips to Cas' in a sweet and tender kiss.

"Lab coat looks fine."

Cas chuckled as he nuzzled at his boyfriend's cheek.

"I figured."

"Should wear it more often," hummed Dean as he caressed Castiel's thigh with his thumb.

"You seem to have developed a kink," smirked Cas as he stole another kiss.

"You don't seem too averse to it," huffed Dean as he rubbed their noses together. 

A spark of mischief glinted behind Castiel's eyes and Dean cocked an eyebrow at it.

"No, but the guy who watches the cameras might be," muttered Cas and Dean blinked before slowly turning to a corner of the room, and sure enough, a small, bulbous lens was staring directly at them, red light blinking calmly.

Dean flushed pink and Cas laughed warmly before tugging his boyfriend closer.

"I tried to warn you."

"As I recall you didn't put up that much of a fuss."

"You'd have ignored me anyway."

Dean hid his reddening face in Cas' neck and the older man chuckled before squeezing his lover's exposed rump playfully.

Dean startled and squawked in mortification as he hurried to tuck himself in and zip everything up again. Cas followed at a more leisurely pace.

"Come on, Dean. Maybe we should get home before your face bursts into flames," grinned Cas, gently leading his boyfriend out of the room, but not before turning to wink at the camera.

Dean groaned and Cas laughed pleasantly. 

At least he knew his coat was the right size, anyway.


	2. Show

"In his last interview, Mr. Novak called you 'conceited' and 'over-bearing'. What do you have to say to that?"

Dean grinned charmingly at the young reporter as he packed away his Fender, running his cold fingers one last time over her perfectly-tuned strings as cameras flashed and whirred all around him, fans screaming his name as the press struggled for shots and audio.

"If you've got talent, why be modest? I've worked hard to get where I am, unlike Mr. Novak, who believes his parents' plethora of money is the only way to get what he wants. Ask him how many grand pianos he had growing up in his mansion."

The reporters ate it up, furiously scribbling in their note books and Dean chuckled as he hosted his guitar case onto his back as the rest of his band dispersed.

"Mr. Novak also states guitar is an easy instrument to master. He says you chose it because it requires less skill than most other instruments."

Dean's eyes flashed in amusement before he cocked an eyebrow.

"Does he now? Well, you can tell Castiel that a piano has no place in a true rock band. You don't hear Metallica tinkling on a keyboard. He should stick to his orchestras. Oh wait, I think you have to have talent to play in an orchestra. Tell him to keep practising his scales."

The press recorded every word with glee, delight dancing in their eyes at the latest insults rallying between the two rival bands, or more specifically Dean and Castiel. The media had been publishing their cutting comments and icy remarks for seven years now; every time one of the bands performed a concert, Dean or Castiel had a string of petty jabs lined up for their rival and the public loved it.

Originally, Castiel and Dean had been forced to play in the same band by a record producer who liked both of their styles and thought they would work well together. 

Unfortunately, whilst recording at Castiel's parents' house, Dean had tripped over a stray microphone lead and the head of his guitar had taken a chunk out of Cas' most treasured Steinway piano and the pianist had been livid, kicking Dean out of the house and refusing to work with him again.

Dean thought he had over-reacted; with the amount of money his parents obviously owned, Cas could get the piano repaired easily, so he had snapped at the pianist with a few of his own cruel comments.

Castiel had formed his own band and the two groups had risen to fame pretty quickly because of a mixture of good music and outrageous insults to one another's leaders.

The media had been all over them like wildfire and the two bands only seemed to gain more diehard fans, who often started heated arguments over which band was better and who was being more dramatic. It wasn't unknown for actual fights to break out (which neither band condoned).

"In his last interview, Mr. Novak stated you would be better suited to a... to a banjo," stammered one reporter and Dean snorted at that. Fine, if that's how Castiel wanted to play...

"Did he? Well, I don't really rate keyboardists' opinions."

There was a burst of laughter from somewhere to the right, where a gaggle of Dean's most devoted fans were standing. They knew how much it irked Castiel to be called a 'keyboard' player. He said playing classical piano took far more skill than merely playing a few chords on a small electronic keyboard. Cas would take great offence to Dean belittling his instrument, yet again.

The reporters grinned eagerly as they scribbled in their note pads and Dean managed to slip away with a lazy salute before he was asked anything else.

He sauntered down to the barren field he'd parked the Impala in and slung his guitar and pedal in the back, humming ACDC quietly as he slid into the driver's seat and cranked up the heat in the frosty car. He had two hours worth of driving ahead and he wanted to call his lover before he collapsed into his warm bed.

 

* * *

 

When he finally traipsed into his modest but comfortable apartment, he raised an eyebrow at the fact the lights were already on. He startled when he spotted a figure sitting quietly on his couch, sipping at a mug of something hot as he read a book. _John Grisham,_ by the looks of the cover.

Dean let the corners of his mouth quirk into a smile when he recognised the trench coat hanging on the hooks behind the door, and he shrugged his own jacket off, placing it next to the trench.

He paused when he remembered the little black box in his jacket pocket.

"Didn't expect to see you here," commented Dean as he slowly turned to the other man, leaving his jacket for the moment.

"I thought you might want some company," the other man said, tone gravelly but not unkind. "...Besides, I was getting lonely."

Dean's gaze softened as he crossed the distance between them, coming to sit beside the intruder.

"It's only been three days, Cas."

Castiel frowned and leaned into his lover, Dean's arms automatically wrapping around him as they pressed closer to one another.

"Three days without hearing your voice is far too long," pouted the pianist and Dean chuckled as he nuzzled his lover's hair.

"I've missed you too."

Cas leaned towards the small coffee table and picked up the second steaming cup of hot chocolate, before offering it to Dean. The younger man took it gratefully, warming his frozen fingers around it.

Winter concerts were always a nightmare for everyone involved.

Castiel tugged him into his arms, warming his body up and Dean almost purred at the welcome sensations. He hadn't expected his lover to surprise him with a midnight visit, but he was extremely glad that he had. Tonight was not the type of night he wanted to spend alone in an empty, cool bed.

"Saw the news," murmured Cas. "You played really well tonight."

Dean snuggled into his lover's chest, mug still firmly clasped between his palms.

"You play well every night," mumbled Dean, eyes closing contentedly.

Cas' hand splayed over his stomach, thumb stroking his cool skin comfortingly.

"I'm sorry I couldn't make it. I tried everything I could think of to get out of that ridiculous interview, but you know what reporters are like."

Dean chuckled. "I don't expect you to come to any of my concerts. We're supposed to be rivals, y'know."

Cas quirked a smile as he let his lips rest against Dean's hair.

"You're to blame for that. We had a perfectly hostile relationship until you knocked on my door and stuttered out apologies for brutally destroying my piano, brandy and cookies clenched in your sweaty palms."

Dean rolled his eyes. "As I recall, you're the one who kissed me first."

Castiel nuzzled his hair. "Yes, but that was two years later, love."

Dean replaced his mug on the coffee table and twisted until he was lying on his side and could pepper kisses over Castiel's cheek.

"I'm glad you do come to my gigs," he whispered. "I love being able to spot your face out at the back of the crowd. I love being the only one who knows you're there; I love being able to play for you without anyone else knowing it's you I'm doing it for."

Cas smiled tenderly as he captured Dean's lips.

"I thought someone spotted you in the last concert of mine. I thought they'd noticed you halfway through the second act."

Dean rubbed their noses together. "I wouldn't be surprised considering the way you kept staring at me all the way through that gig. Last time you looked at me like that, I got laid."

Cas chuckled as they cuddled further into one another, shifting until they couldn't work out which limb belonged to who.

"I wish I could tell the world who you belonged to; who I belonged to," murmured Dean as they shared a sweet kiss, and Cas frowned.

"Dean..."

"I know, I know," mumbled the younger man. "I remember what happened to Meg."

Castiel's arms tightened around him and Dean relaxed into his hold.

"I can't lose you too," whimpered Cas. "I can't go through that again."

Dean sighed as he pressed their lips together. 

"You won't lose me, Angel. I'm not going anywhere."

Cas tugged him closer until Dean's head was safely tucked under his chin.

The older man had already lost one love of his life to a psychotic, trigger-happy fan. Cas had revealed his girlfriend to the media and two months later, one of the band's followers had broken into Meg's house and shot her right between the eyes whilst she slept. 

When the police had caught her, the fan had stated she didn't believe Meg was right for Castiel and that he should have dated her instead. Cas had been nearly suicidal and a week later, Dean had turned up at his door, ready to offer his apologies for wrecking the Steinway.

Dean had been there for Cas a lot over the following couple of years, despite the media and public thinking they hated each other and when they expressed an interest in one another, there was no way of separating them, especially when Dean found out his lover had been disowned by his parents merely because he'd chosen a career in music rather than law, as was the family business.

People just thought it was a coincidence or some form of rivalry that their concerts tended to land in similar areas at similar times.

After what had happened to Meg, Cas and Dean had sworn not to tell the public or the media of their relationship, preferring to let things carry on as they had been before they'd hooked up.

It was all a show. They pretended to hate one another on stage and they threw insult after insult, comment after comment at one another through interviews or gigs, and it succeeded in getting both their bands more attention and therefore, revenue (which pleased their managers).

However, when they were behind closed doors, where no one could watch them or make judgements, they cuddled close, traded soft kisses and tender words; made love or just took comfort in one another's embrace.

It wasn't all romantic either. After four years, that heated passion of a newly-formed relationship tends to die down into something more loving, more comfortable and they'd both lost count of how many hours they'd gone about their own business around one another's houses, writing music or reading; filling in paperwork or completing general chores, yet being content to just be in one another's company. To know that the other was nearby was comforting for both of them.

It was far from perfect, but it was their life and they were happy with it; with each other. Sometimes they even enjoyed the banter the media believed was true. It was fun and didn't include anyone else, and both Cas and Dean knew none of the comments were anything but an act; a show for the media to eat up.

Cas pressed gentle kisses to Dean's head, muscles tense with stress from thinking about the fate of his late girlfriend and what could become of Dean if they weren't careful. He was afraid of waking up one day to find himself alone again; terrified of finding Dean had been plucked from his life without so much as a _'goodbye'_ or an _'I love you'_. 

Sometimes, when Dean was away performing tours and Cas couldn't get away from his own band to join him, the pianist would have nightmares in his empty bed. Dreams of losing Dean filling his mind and frightening him to his core until he woke up in a sweaty, panicked, thrashing heap, blindly reaching for a lover who wasn't there.

Dean tried to be around as much as he could.

Castiel nuzzled Dean's neck, trying to convince himself that Dean was staying right were he was, with him, for a very, very long time.

Dean was reminded of the tiny black box in his jacket.

"Four years is an awfully long time to be dating," murmured Dean and Cas hummed in agreement, too busy pressing kisses along his jaw to pay any real attention.

"I don't know if I can keep being your dirty little secret, Cas," continued Dean quietly and Cas froze as the words finally sunk in. 

That sounded terrifyingly similar to the introduction to a break up speech.

Was Dean bored with him? Had their insults gone too far? Had Dean grown tired of keeping their relationship a secret; of being tied to a man who carried so many pathetic insecurities? None of them sounded like anything Dean would do, but relationships could change, after all.

"Dean..." choked Cas as the younger man wriggled out of his grip and stood from the couch, making his way over to the door without so much as a backwards glance.

"Wait!" Called Castiel desperately as he scrambled off the couch and Dean paused as he turned to look at him in confusion.

"At least tell me what I did wrong," pleaded Cas, brokenly. "Tell me if I can fix it. Please, Dean... Don't just walk out. If you want to tell the world about us, you can. Just don't leave. Please..."

Dean looked alarmed and he strode over to Cas immediately, pulling him into his arms and peppering kisses all over his face and neck as a few stray tears trickled over the older man's cheeks.

"I'm not going anywhere, Angel. Remember? I'm not leaving you, I promise. I just... I worded that really poorly, didn't I?" Dean sighed as he squeezed his lover's middle. He tilted Cas' chin up and brushed away the droplets of water sliding down his face.

"I want to ask you a very important question and I need to get to my jacket to ask it. I want you to think carefully before answering, because depending on what you say next, our lives could become very different," murmured Dean softly, eyes shining with love and maybe anxiousness. "Let me get to my jacket?"

Cas nodded slowly and Dean managed a weak grin before hurrying to rummage in his jacket pocket. He pulled out a small black box.

He looked nervous when he next approached Cas and the older man felt his legs threaten to collapse as Dean kneeled on one knee and held the box in front of him in an open palm.

"Castiel Novak, I know we had a rocky start and I get that our relationship is less than conventional, but you've become so deeply ingrained in my life I don't think I'd be able to live without you. 

"You're everything I ever wanted and everything I ever needed and I can't tell you how much you mean to me, or how beautiful you are, or how much I love you, because there will never be enough words in the dictionary to describe all these things in the ways I want them to. Words could never do you justice, Castiel.

"So I guess what I'm really trying to say is this:

"Castiel Novak... Will you marry me?"

Dean gulped as he flipped open the box to reveal a simple band of silver with a tiny feather carved into its surface. On the inside of the ring, Cas could barely make out the words _'For my Angel'_ engraved in perfect calligraphy.

Cas' throat closed up. If he said 'yes', they wouldn't be able to keep the relationship a secret anymore and Dean would be at risk, just like Meg had.

On the other hand, the most important person in his life had just proposed to him.

They'd talked about it, sure. But nothing serious, nothing definite like a date or a place. Cas had been half-convinced they would keep their secret forever, in fact, he'd been perfectly content with that.

Except... now he wasn't. Dean loved him enough to want to commit to him for life. He couldn't just shrug that off. Not when Dean was staring up at him with so much hope and fear.

Cas opened his mouth but no words came out and Dean took a shaky breath.

"I don't want you to feel pressured into this, Cas. You can say no and we can carry on as we were. Nothing has to change. The reason I'm asking you is because I want you to believe me when I say I'm staying with you forever. I don't care what the rest of the world says; I only care what you want. I want you to be happy."

Castiel snapped his mouth shut, overwhelmed by Dean's love for him and the taller man stood and placed the box in his hands, curling Cas' fingers around it securely.

"Think about it," Dean said. "Sleep on it and when you're completely certain, give me an answer."

Dean took a step back and Cas immediately missed the contact. He glanced at the little box in his hands, opening it up to brush his fingers against the flawless metal inside.

Dean had just asked him to marry him. His lover who had traded house keys with him, who had made him meals and had done his laundry, who Cas had cleaned for and cooked for, had just proposed. This man who he showered with, who he kissed every night before bed and every morning before breakfast (when he could), who made love to him in the sweetest of ways and sometimes, in the most passionate of ways, had just asked him to marry him.

And now, he was telling Cas to answer in his own time. He was understanding of Cas' needs to the point where he'd just told him he had all the time in the world to come up with an answer.

Castiel refused to make Dean wait like that.

"I've thought about it," said Cas quietly and Dean's gaze snapped up to his face anxiously.

"Cas, you don't need to rush-"

"Yes," stated Castiel firmly. "I want to marry you, Dean Winchester. I love you and I want to prove it."

He handed the ring box back to his stunned lover and Dean stared at it numbly before Cas gently took his hand and squeezed it, a small smile worming its way onto his face.

"I will marry you," he whispered and when Dean caught the up curve of his lips, he broke into an ecstatic grin before fumbling to take the ring out of its holdings.

He slipped it onto Castiel's finger and the older man got all of 2.4 seconds to admire it before Dean crushed their mouths together, hands tangling in hair and clutching desperately at shirts, as bodies pressed flush and tongues danced eagerly with one another.

"I love you," stated Dean in between heated kisses, whispering it over and over like a prayer as Cas pulled him closer, unable to help the joyous laughs that bubbled out of him, with Dean grinning along with him.

After a few moments, they settled down and merely stood in each other's warm embraces.

"I'm yours forever now," whispered Dean and Cas leaned their foreheads together contentedly.

"And I'm yours."

Dean shot him a dazzling smile and Cas wanted to kiss it to see if it could get any brighter.

It could.

"Bed," murmured Dean gently as he brushed a thumb over his lover's... no, his _fiancé's_ cheek. "I'm going to make love to you tonight, Angel. And I'm going to make sure every doubt you've ever had about me leaving or being taken from you disappears into a distant memory."

Cas shivered at the sweet promise before claiming Dean's lips eagerly and guiding him to the bedroom where Dean made good on his words.

When they were both satisfied, naked bodies sweaty and aching in all the right places, and breaths heavy but smiles wide, Dean curled around his fiancé protectively, wrapping his arms around his stomach and chest as Cas cuddled into him.

"I will never leave you," promised Dean and Cas nuzzled at his throat and pressed his lips to it.

They basked in one another's warm embraces and let their minds wander into the not-too-distant future, where their lives together had suddenly morphed into something very new and different, yet not unwelcome. 

After a few minutes, Cas began to chuckle and Dean pulled back fractionally to look at him.

"The press is going to have a field day," smirked Cas and Dean snorted out a laugh as he tugged his lover closer.

"I can't wait."

As they settled down again, Cas trailed a hand up Dean's side.

"Don't think I haven't forgotten your 'keyboardist' remark from earlier today."

Dean cracked a grin, eyes still closed.

"I distinctly remember you saying something about me playing a banjo, so I'm not taking anything back."

"Now I know what to get you for Christmas."

"Even contemplate it, and I'm filing for a divorce."

"We're not even married yet!"

"I'll stand you up at the altar."

"Oh please. You'd never pass up an opportunity at free cake."

"You know me so well, babe."

"Go to sleep, love; you're giving me a headache."

"Oh, Cas, I get all tingly when you take control like that."

"I swear, I'll cut your guitar strings whilst you sleep. Close your eyes and shut up."

Dean stole a playful kiss, which Cas only half objected to despite his tongue reaching out to slide against his lover's. Dean tucked Cas' head back under his chin as they closed their eyes once more.

"Y'know, I still can't work out why everyone thinks we hate each other," mumbled Dean sleepily, arms tightening around his fiancé.

Cas shrugged as he curled his own arms around Dean and nestled into his chest.

"No idea, now hush. Tomorrow, you've got a concert and we both need to be awake if we want to reveal our sudden big, gay love for each other on live TV."

Dean cackled.


	3. Costumes

"When I asked you to buy us a couple of Halloween costumes, I didn't mean... _that._ " Castiel scrunched his nose up in distaste for the Playboy Bunny outfit. 

It was bright pink and had thin, uncomfortable straps serving as garters. It was poorly made and looked as though it would break after a couple of uses, but it was clearly something some people would find erotic. Some people like Dean.

Dean smirked. "Thought it would suit you. This is the kind of thing people wear at parties isn't it?"

Cas offered him a withering glare. "Maybe the girls do."

Dean gasped over-exaggeratedly. "I'd never believe you could be sexist!"

"Dean, it has an in-built bra."

"For support."

"And what would you like me to fill it with?" Cas asked drily and Dean shrugged.

"...Mangos?"

Cas closed his eyes and sighed as he rubbed the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb.

"Take it back and get something I can actually show up in at our High School reunion."

Dean pouted. "What's wrong with this?"

"I can't attend tomorrow's party wearing an outfit not only designed for a female figure, but one that looks like it belongs out of an episode of Casa Erotica."

Dean stalked closer, a suggestive glint in his eyes.

"I was kind of hoping maybe we could have our own private party, right here, in the house?" He winked as he held out the provocative costume, wiggling it slightly for emphasis.

Cas rolled his eyes. "Just you, me and the stripper?" He deadpanned and Dean's face fell before he tried his own version of his brother's puppy dog eyes.

"You know I only have eyes for you, Angel. Please? I promise I'll get you something different for the party."

Cas gathered up his case papers, ready to present them in court the next morning.

"No, Dean. I'm not wearing stripper clothes."

"But no one else will see!" Protested Dean. "You'd look really hot in them."

"No. I'd look really ridiculous in them. I'm not having an argument with you over whether or not I'm going to wear a tacky women's Bunny costume. I'd feel too embarrassed; you know I'm not good with... kink."

Dean pulled a face. "Cas, I'm not asking you to try some freaky BDSM with me or anything. It's just a costume."

Castiel shook his head resolutely. "No, Dean. It looks scratchy and it won't fit me. Besides, it has a tail."

"It's only a bit of cotton wool stuck to the back."

"Dean."

The younger man sighed and held his hands up in defeat. 

"Okay, Cas. I'll take it back on my way to work tomorrow morning."

Castiel closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. "Thank you," he muttered. He was tired from making notes for the past two weeks. The client he was defending had a bit of an odd case and no one was quite certain if he was guilty or not, meaning the jury could swing either way. That meant Cas had to really work on his defence if he was to get the guy off, and it was proving more difficult than he had originally expected as the prosecution was very skilled and much more experienced than he was.

To be honest, Cas just wanted to go to bed.

Dean's gaze suddenly softened as Cas scrubbed a hand down his weary face and the engineer padded over to him after dumping the costume over the back of the chair. He gently slid his arms around his fiancé and pressed a tender kiss to the back of his neck.

"C'mon, Angel. Let's get you to bed."

Cas leaned into his lover gratefully as Dean guided him to their bedroom and they both undressed and slipped under the covers, Cas instantly worming his way into Dean's broad chest in search of warmth.

Dean chuckled and wrapped his arms protectively around the older man, pressing his lips to his forehead as they both settled down. 

"My gorgeous Angel," murmured Dean quietly as he rested his chin on Cas' hair and with that, the pair fell into a contented slumber.

 

* * *

 

Dean was having a bad day.

No, scratch that. Dean was having a horrifically terrible day.

It had started that morning when he had left the house and a peacefully sleeping Castiel at his usual six-thirty, with the intent to return the cheap (and admittedly sleazy-looking) Bunny outfit. Except his car had a flat tyre and Dean had to make a detour to the local mechanic's to get it fixed, making him an hour late to work. 

He'd returned the costume and sped to work, hoping Zachariah wouldn't be too strict with him considering it was his third time this month being late.

Obviously, luck wasn't on Dean's side that day as Zachariah told him he'd have to work overtime to make up for the loss. 

Then Dean's apprentice somehow managed to set fire to the jet engine they were tuning, meaning they had just delayed a military pilot in receiving a functional F-15 Eagle. 

Zachariah wasn't pleased.

With a harsh reprimand and a warning that another strike would mean Dean would be searching for another job, the engineer stormed to his car to retrieve his lunch.

Only to find someone had keyed the Impala's glossy black paintwork.

It might have been an accident or it might not have, but when Dean stumbled back home that evening, four hours later than usual, he was on the verge of punching a wall.

He'd already called Castiel earlier to tell him he'd be late getting home and the older man had heard the fury in his tone and asked him what was wrong, so Dean had relayed his awful day, thankful that at least his lover was sympathetic, despite probably having a tough day himself.

All Dean wanted to do was shovel some food down his throat and collapse into bed and maybe snuggle up to his lover.

He managed to do the first part, grateful to his fiancé for making and leaving his meal in the microwave, and he was just about to do the second part when Castiel finally made an appearance.

Dean knew Castiel had been exhausted all week from his trying case, so he was marginally surprised the other man wasn't already tucked into bed. However, he was more surprised at what Cas was wearing.

As the older man glided over to him, a smirk etched onto his features, Dean allowed his gaze to roam over Cas' inviting body.

He was obviously dressed as an Angel, but it wasn't the usual white-robed kind of deal.

Cas wore a black leather body suit that started at his shoulders, collar hung low in a long v-shape over his muscular chest, and ended abruptly at the top of his thighs, accenting his assets incredibly well, yet almost hiding them with a line of soft feathers. 

Garters connected the suit to a pair of pretty net stockings, created with elegant designs at the tops and there was something extremely arousing about the thin leather collar peeping out from behind the top of the body suit.

Then there were the huge, feathery black wings hanging delicately from either side of Castiel's frame, feathers swirling and stretching artistically like something out of a Tim Burton animation.

Dean gulped, mouth going dry as the lower half of his body began to draw itself to attention. 

Cas prowled closer before sitting elegantly in Dean's lap and the engineer couldn't help but brush his hands over Cas' hips, where the line of feathers resided, finishing the suit off neatly.

His gaze flicked to the small, fluffy halo perched atop his fiancé's head.

"Did I forget it was Christmas?" Murmured Dean as his eyes drank in the picture of his beautiful lover, committing it to memory. 

Castiel chuckled lowly as he pressed their mouths together filthily, all teeth and tongue which left Dean gasping for more.

"I thought you could do with a little bit of fun after today," whispered Castiel suggestively and Dean felt his pulse speed up.

"Thought you didn't do costumes?" Murmured Dean as he leaned in to capture his lover's lips, only for Cas to move backwards slightly when Dean tried to steal a kiss.

"I don't do crude," corrected Cas and Dean couldn't help but rake his eyes over his fiancé's body again, taking in the well-made leather and luxurious feathers.

"If you want me to wear a costume in the bedroom, let's at least do it properly," rumbled Cas as he nipped at Dean's bottom lip before trailing his tongue down his throat.

Dean shivered and felt the tensions of the day melt away.

The halo tickled Dean's nose and he carefully removed it from his lover's head before replacing his hands on Cas' hips.

"I think maybe we both need a little escapism," whispered Cas and Dean groaned as Cas ground his hips against his lap.

"You're not very angelic," breathed Dean as Cas began to undo his shirt, nipping and sucking at any flesh exposed to him, until he wrapped his lips around a nipple.

Cas grinned and scraped his teeth over the sensitive stub and Dean moaned quietly as he relaxed into his lover.

"Fallen Angel," he murmured as he moved to nip at Dean's jaw, rolling his hips once more.

Dean let out another ragged groan before his hand wandered to Cas' thigh, touch light and teasing.

Castiel closed his eyes in pleasure as he rid Dean of his shirt, the younger man's fingers warm and gentle against bare skin already sensitive from fluffy feathers.

They touched and kissed in a comfortable silence, breaths deepening and moans soft as they relieved pent-up stress.

"You have no idea how breathtaking you are," whispered Dean as he claimed his lover's lips roughly, possessively and Cas gave as good as he got.

"Need you," he whispered heatedly as he ground their pelvises together and Dean's breath stuttered as he felt Castiel's arousal through both their clothing.

He smoothed a hand down the tight leather covering Castiel's back, smirking when his fingers brushed the lace straps holding the suit in place. His hand wandered a little further, tangling in the silky black feathers of the great wings and he tugged his lover into a passionate kiss, tongues dancing, fighting for dominance before they pulled apart again with swollen, spit-slicked lips.

Dean trailed his free hand over Castiel's front, lower and lower until he could cup his lover through the thin material, prompting Cas to rut against his palm.

The lawyer released a surprised yelp when Dean easily picked him up and pinned him to a nearby wall, grinding harshly against him until Cas was practically begging for more.

"Turn around," demanded Dean, and Cas was powerless to defy him, bracing his hands on the wall as he wiggled his hips invitingly.

Dean growled in approval before stilling him with two large hands around his waist and Cas was turned on more than a little by how different and intense everything felt through the costume. Then the hands slid up his sides and down his front, hitting all his sensitive spots as they traveled down to his thighs, groping and fondling anything between them, before moving to his rear and grasping at it possessively.

Panting now, Castiel decided to get his own back and once Dean's hand returned to his hips, the older man quickly pressed into Dean's crotch as he bent over. He smirked when his lover's grip tightened and the engineer began to rut against his backside, grinding slow and harsh.

"Clothes off, and _harder_ ," growled Castiel and Dean's response was immediate. He whirled Cas around and crushed their mouths together hotly as he undid the ties around the older man's back, and Cas was quick to unbuckle Dean's belt and rid him of his trousers and underwear.

Completely naked, Dean turned Cas around again and took him without so much as a warning and Castiel was so aroused by the whole affair that he just leaned into Dean, shifting into a better position for him to claim all of him.

Dean rumbled possessively as his thrusts deepened, one hand splayed protectively over Cas' stomach and the older man let out little groans of approval and whimpers of pleasure at the roughness.

"I love you," he gasped as Dean quickened his pace and the engineer pressed a wet kiss to his neck.

"I love you too, Angel."

Cas' breathing stuttered and he felt his knees give way as bliss overwhelmed him, but Dean was there to catch him and they slid to the floor together, chests heaving and smiles wide.

Dean shuffled over until his back was against the wall and he tugged Cas into his lap once more as he stroked his hair lovingly. Castiel rested his head against his fiancé's chest, warm and content.

Dean plucked a stray feather from Cas' hair before curling his arms around him securely.

"Thanks, Cas," he murmured as he pressed his lips to his lover's cheek. "I needed that."

"So did I," agreed Castiel as he cuddled into Dean. "Good thing we get to keep the costume."

Dean cocked an interested eyebrow. "It's not rented?"

"I don't think they'd want it back even if it was," chuckled Cas and Dean grinned as he nuzzled raven tufts.

"Then we are definitely doing that again."

Cas smirked as he peppered kisses along Dean's throat. "I thought you might say that."

"Well, you make a pretty good Angel, Cas. You're certainly beautiful enough. Intelligent too."

The older man flushed pink as he hid his face in Dean's neck and the engineer laughed quietly.

"You can't go back to being shy after that erotic performance," he grinned. "Besides, I want more kisses."

Cas pecked him on the lips briefly before cuddling back into him again.

"Fine, but lets go to bed first. Then maybe you'll get more than a few quick kisses."

Dean liked the sound of that. 

He pulled his lover to his feet and they collected their respective heaps of clothes before trotting to bed. 

They never made it to the Halloween party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by _impulse_baker_
> 
> This was a fun one to write, so thanks! Hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> If anyone has a word prompt, please comment as I love the challenge! Don't forget to write the pairing (or moresome)!


	4. Comic con

Misha was doing that thing again. That thing where he winked suggestively and kept leaning too close to Jensen or touching him in that maddeningly subtle manner which would have the fans snapping picture after picture of them both and spamming the internet with them with tags like _'Cockles'_ or _'OTP'_ attached to them.

It drove Jensen insane because Misha knew exactly what he was doing and he knew the fans would get incredibly over-excited about it and they would start looking for things that weren't there and then they'd start asking questions about it.

...Okay, well maybe there were things there that the fans didn't know about and Jensen wasn't willing to tell them about.

Things like what Misha could do with his tongue.

Jensen shook his head to clear it. Definitely not the time to be having thoughts like that. 

Misha brushed a knuckle over his cheek with an innocent grin and the fans cheered. Jensen rolled his eyes and shrugged the older actor off. 

"You've got to admit, Jen; Cas seemed pretty put out when Dean said they were _'brothers'_. I mean, are they really only brothers, or do you think there's a deeper connection going on there?" Misha smirked slyly at him and Jensen shot him a glare. He'd recognised the underlying meaning to that question.

Misha had no problems in releasing their relationship to the public. Jensen was the one who'd asked to keep it a secret.

At first it was because he hadn't wanted to raise too many eyebrows; to have too many questions directed at him when everyone had assumed he was straight. Heck, _he'd_ assumed he was straight until Misha has stuck his tongue down his throat and proceeded to pleasure Jensen until the younger man had actually blacked out.

After a few months of the fun affair that seemed as though it was growing more into a permanent part of his life by the day, Jensen had dismissed the heterosexual argument as being shallow and old-fashioned. Lots of people in the acting business were gay, or bisexual; it's not like he was setting a trend.

He had worried about what their colleagues would say when they found out, however. Would it be awkward having two of the main cast bumping uglies? Would their friends back off for fear of intruding? Would they think Jensen and Misha would be too distracted to perform so would give Dean and Castiel less screen time together?

Would they write Destiel into the script?

Jensen had been pleasantly surprised when Jared had beamed at them, crushed both him and Misha into a hug and proceeded to tie the sleeves of Dean and Cas' costumes together whenever he got the chance. 

There were also the Destiel fanfiction emails that arrived at Jensen's inbox every morning, where Jared would send him one daily Destiel fic just for giggles, but Jensen would never admit to browsing the odd work, mainly because Misha would demand they tried some of them out and Jensen wasn't entirely sure he could bend the way most teenage girls seemed to think he could.

Some were quite well written, actually.

Some of the older cast, like Jim and Mark Shepard and even Richard had rolled their eyes and muttered "about time", which did make Jensen question whether he had always been as straight as he'd originally believed he was.

Which was a stupid question, when he thought about it.

Eric's response had been the most jaw-dropping (for Jensen anyway). When informed of his and Misha's relationship, the producer had stared at Jensen confusedly and asked: "Wait, so this is only a recent development?"

Jensen had given a lot of people the middle finger that week. Misha thought it was all highly amusing.

Fear of telling his colleagues now completely vanished, Jensen had begun to worry what would happen if the information somehow got leaked to the fans.

It would certainly change the dynamic of the show, knowing that two of the lead actors were in a relationship. Misha said nothing would really change, but Jensen knew that couldn't be right. People would talk. Comic conventions would be filled with awkward questions about Misha and Jensen's personal lives, and the fans would demand Destiel be introduced to the show. Arguments would break out about whether Castiel and Dean should be involved in the show and some fans would complain that it took the spotlight off the Winchester brothers and the original reason for the show's existence. 

Fans would demand photo-shoots of him and Misha kissing or touching, and they would create artwork or literature based around their relationship; works that may be explicit and erotic in a way that teenage fans shouldn't be able to produce.

Jensen paused.

Wait... weren't things like that already?

He blinked as he thought that over and it was like an epiphany had suddenly smacked into him at full force.

Misha was laughing with their fans, looking extremely relaxed as he commented innuendo after innuendo, leaving Jensen alone with his thoughts after realising he might have implied a little too much for his younger lover to be happy with him.

Jensen watched him. He really looked at the older actor; at the way he held himself so confidently in front of a crowd; at how easy-going he was despite believing Jensen was displeased with him; at how he was giving his lover space as a sort-of apology for pushing too hard when he knew Jensen wasn't comfortable making their relationship public.

Jensen began to wonder what he was so afraid of. 

This thing between them had started as a bit of fun; Jensen was curious and willing to explore and Misha thought it would be good entertainment when there was nothing else to do. It's not like either of them had partners or children to keep them occupied. 

Then after a few months, things had become more tender between them. Jensen began to have the urge to touch Misha more, outside of their bed sheets and Misha had let him, often pressing teasing kisses to the younger man's face whenever they were alone, just because he could.

Then, it became intense. They didn't just have a romp in bed anymore; they began to grab and lick and nip and taste; they didn't kiss, they ravished one another's mouths; their touches were desperate, frantic as they tried to make more of what they were doing and feeling.

After a year of dancing around their emotions, they blurted everything out during a passionate night and both had been sufficiently embarrassed for not acting on their wants and desires sooner.

Three months after that, they found themselves stealing secret kisses off-set, trading sweet words and quiet promises behind props in the hopes that the crew wouldn't get too suspicious.

Of course, everything had been revealed eventually and two years down the line, Jensen was fully aware he'd fallen hard for his quirky co-star. If the soft smile on Misha's face when they were together was anything to go by, he'd say the sentiment was mutual.

He loved Misha. He wasn't afraid of admitting that. His lover was kind and thoughtful, and did so much for others who were in need of help that Jensen was unable to feel anything else but pride for his lover. Misha made him a better person; made him want to aid those less fortunate and he taught him how to deal with problems he'd never even thought about before, hadn't realised other people experienced before then.

Misha was funny and intelligent and Jensen enjoyed their banter; the way they could poke fun of one another, yet could go to one another when they were facing difficulties or just needed support. 

Jensen adored the way Misha held him when they slept, loved the way the older actor pulled him to his chest and curled around him protectively despite being shorter than Jensen. He loved how Misha could be so rough and possessive when they made love, yet so gentle and tender with him when they kissed sleepily as they settled into bed. He loved how Misha touched him whenever he could; the way he would sometimes lay his hand over Jensen's hip or stomach, like a claim for them alone to see. He loved how Misha made it quite clear that he only wanted Jensen to be happy, just like how Jensen proved to his lover he only wanted him to be happy too.

Sometimes they could be disgustingly sweet with one another and Jared would tease them mercilessly about it, but Misha would shut him up with a well-timed piece of food to the face (whatever was at hand) and Jared would slink off, more often than not, with cream or some sort of brightly-coloured sauce dripping from his hair.

Strangely enough, it just made Jensen fall more deeply in love with Misha.

...So what was he actually worried about? If he felt so strongly about his lover, why was he so averse to letting the public know?

"No, I'd probably get punched!" Laughed Misha and Jensen was slowly drawn back to reality.

"Do it!" Crowed a bunch of fans from the centre of the room and Misha shook his head with a mischievous grin.

"No, no. I'd like to keep all my limbs attached."

"Just one!" Shouted one fan from the back of the room and Jensen raised an eyebrow when Misha glanced at him with a cunning smirk.

"Just one?" He asked with a mocking pout and the audience cheered excitedly. Jensen wondered what his lover had just agreed to.

"Fine, but you better be quick with those cameras," winked the older actor and Jensen was just about to ask what was going on when Misha strode over to him and crushed their lips together. A tongue lapped playfully at his own before Misha was pulling away again and trotting to the other side of the stage, chuckling as cameras flashed all around as an eruption of disbelieving screaming echoed around the room. 

"I hope you guys are happy," commented Misha, "because I've just signed Cas' death warrant! I hope Crowley doesn't see those pics of Dean and Castiel getting all hot and heavy for each other. I don't think he'd be too pleased after their Summer of love."

The fans cackled, but Jensen was too busy gaping at Misha. They'd just kissed in broad daylight and the other actor had managed to turn it into a joke; a way to make their fans laugh and enjoy themselves, and no one had batted an eyelid. There were no looks of disgust or arguments breaking out. Nothing had changed.

Misha had been right all along.

Jensen contemplated this. If nothing was going to change, why was he trying to keep their relationship a secret in the first place? Why would he want to keep the fact that he was courting someone as wonderful as Misha a secret? Why let others think Misha was available? What did he actually have to lose by revealing everything?

"I don't think Dean would particularly care what Crowley feels," said Jensen quietly, seriously as he glanced at Misha and a flicker of confusion crossed the older actor's face as the fans' chatter died down.

"I think he'd care more about keeping Cas happy," he continued as he took a few hesitant steps towards Misha, whose eyes were beginning to widen in shock. Jensen couldn't help but smile as a confused and tense hush fell over the room; it was rare he caught Misha off-guard, but it was so fulfilling when he did.

As he stepped into his lover's personal space, he turned to their audience with a smug smirk.

"You want Destiel pictures? How about this one?"

And with that he effortlessly hoisted Misha's legs onto his hips as he smashed their mouths together, grinning when the older actor scrabbled at his back in surprise before melting into their filthy kiss, tongues tangling and teeth bumping as Jensen shifted his lover into a more comfortable position.

As they pulled apart and Jensen put his lover down, the younger actor was delighted to hear the stunned silence around the room, only broken by Misha's heavy, shocked breathing, and he grinned wolfishly at their fans as he tugged his lover closer and placed a possessive hand on his hip.

"By the way, he's mine," he said cheerfully before whirling around and placing a wet kiss on Misha's cheek. Then he turned to the audience again and glanced at his watch, before giving a little wave.

"Looks like time's up. Sorry guys. See you tomorrow."

And then he spun on his heel and whistled an upbeat tune as he sauntered off-stage, leaving Misha to pick his jaw up off the floor and for the fans to reboot their brains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by _impulse_baker_
> 
> I love opening up your little requests! Thanks again for this one!
> 
> Once again, comment with a word (it can be any word you can think of and it doesn't have to be English!) and a pairing (if any) and I'd love to have a go! Thanks for reading :)


	5. Flu

"So, Sammich, how should I prank your brother today? Replace his beer with hot sauce or change the Impala into an actual impala? Complete with horns and hooves?" Grinned Gabriel as he appeared in the brothers' motel room, lollipop firmly wedged between his teeth. "Maybe I should turn his guns pink; I'm sure he'd be thrilled shooting salt rounds out of that!"

"Not today, Gabriel. I'm not in the mood," grumped Sam, throat sore and face pale as he ran a hand through his bedraggled hair. "Don't you have some other humans to annoy?"

Gabriel's expression dimmed. The younger Winchester looked drained, and as much as he loved pestering both humans and a certain blue-eyed angel, it was no fun when any of them were exhausted and aching. Especially Sam.

He'd put these uncharacteristic thoughts down to being threatened with a holy-oil fry up too many times, but after three years of being around Team Free Will after Metatron had miraculously (yet accidentally) resurrected him, he was beginning to wonder if maybe he'd grown fond of the little rag tag group that had set up one of the Bunker's spare rooms for him for whenever he stayed to watch a movie, share some desserts, help with research and hunts, or just sit and chat for a while. 

...Okay, so maybe he cared for them a little.

Alright, a lot.

He particularly didn't like it when it was Sam who was unhappy. To be honest, he didn't like it when any of them were hurting or unhappy, but there was just something about the absence of Sam's dimpled smile and his warm, friendly eyes that made Gabriel's grace shine a bit less brightly.

He refused to think what that implied (even if he already knew).

"Woah, kiddo. You look like someone just dumped a bucket of ice over your head," frowned Gabriel concernedly as he pulled the lollipop from his mouth and threw it across the room and into the bin without even a single glance.

Sam glared at him, eyes dull and nose glowing a rosy red.

"Brilliant observation, O mighty Archangel. I'm sick."

Upon closer inspection, Gabriel noticed the hunter was shaking slightly, obviously cold and the shoddy (read: _non-existent_ ) heating system in the rat-infested motel room probably wasn't helping either.

Sam coughed; a chesty, painful-sounding hacking that almost convinced Gabe the human's lungs were going to pop out at any second. The hunter pulled his jacket more securely around him before coughing harshly again.

Gabriel winced at the raw sound before his feet automatically guided him closer to the shivering human. He placed a warm hand on Sam's shoulder and the young man immediately leaned into it.

"Can you get rid of it?" Sam croaked, and the begging in his tone made Gabriel grimace as he thought about his next words.

"Sorry, Sam. I can no more cure flu than human medicine can. It's about the only thing Angels can't cure. It's too adaptive; too resistant against anything that tries to get rid of it. I'm afraid you'll have to wait for it to run its course."

Sam sighed quietly, which quickly morphed into another awful coughing fit.

"Cas already told me something like that, but I thought with you being an archangel..."

Gabriel's gaze softened as he squeezed Sam's shoulder gently in apology.

"The best I can do is advise keeping warm and drink lots of hot fluid," murmured Gabriel and Sam let out another weary sigh.

"Okay. Thanks, anyway," Sam muttered hoarsely and Gabriel scowled again. Why was Sam thanking him? He couldn't help.

After another shudder, Gabriel made a decision which would probably come back to bite him, but at that moment he really only cared about making Sam feel better.

"Gabriel? What are you-?" Sam cut himself off as six great golden wings curled around him, warming him to his core as the soft, silky feathers tickled his skin pleasantly.

There was an awkward pause as Sam tried to comprehend what was going on and Gabriel contemplated vanishing from the room to camp out in Iceland for a few months.

Then, to Gabriel's utter shock, Sam cautiously leaned into him, pulling his wings tighter around him and huddling into them.

"Sam...?" Gabriel asked warily, wondering if this was all a wonderful hallucination from some suspicious chocolate he'd eaten.

"You're warm," mumbled Sam, sounding embarrassed and Gabriel was mortified when his feathers fluffed out in a show of preening; the compliment obviously triggering his Angelic courting instincts. 

Oblivious, Sam gently trailed his hand through the silky feathers, smiling slightly at the way they tickled lightly at his palm.

Gabriel stiffened, gulping at how his grace had just perked to attention (amongst other parts) at the prospect of a potential mate. It was a shame he'd have to tell Sam what his wings' behaviour meant; that usually only mates groomed one another and touched each other's wings as Sam was doing.

As the hunter gently fisted a hand in one of the feathery appendages, pulling it around him, Gabriel gasped quietly; the sensations he had never imagined experiencing after fleeing Heaven activating age-old instincts which encouraged him to makes Sam his, to mark and claim the human he had come to care so deeply for.

"Sam," stated Gabriel lowly, firmly and the hunter paused, frowning at the strange tone. He didn't release Gabriel's wing.

The archangel's wings twitched and Gabriel wasn't sure if it was to prompt Sam to touch them more, or to attempt to escape his grasp.

"Gabe?" Sam asked concernedly before he broke into another dreadful coughing fit.

This time it was clear Gabriel's wings were trying to curl around Sam; to protect and take care of him; warm and heal him when he was in so much discomfort.

Sam closed his eyes and snuggled into them and Gabriel had to take a step back, wings recoiling in fear of doing something regrettable. Sam whined in protest and Gabriel's grace tried to lunge at the young hunter, to soothe him and prove who he belonged to.

"Sorry, kiddo. I'll have to stop you there before I do something you'll hate me for," Gabriel chuckled almost nervously.

Sam raised both eyebrows. "Worse than hitting me in the crotch with a ball on a stick in the middle of a Japanese game show?"

Gabe winced. "Ah... maybe. You certainly won't like it anyway."

Sam rolled his eyes and coughed again. "You cuddled me first."

Gabriel's wings fluffed up again and Gabriel rushed to iron them out again. Sam was very good at saying things only mates would usually say to one another.

The hunter sighed at receiving no response. "Whatever. Just... close the door when you leave," he murmured as he began to shiver again, head turning back to his research.

Gabriel watched the giant human shake pathetically as he began another coughing fit and the Archangel closed his eyes as he debated whether or not to do what he really wanted to do. 

After a particularly nasty-sounding gagging, Gabriel made up his mind and he snapped his fingers, causing Sam's laptop to shut down and for all his books to magically close themselves.

Sam made a noise of surprised protest, but Gabriel placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Come on, kiddo. You need to rest. Enough researching; get comfortable on the couch or bed and I'll bring you something to eat."

Sam eyed him suspiciously. "What are you playing at?" He demanded and Gabriel frowned, wings drooping slightly in rejection.

"I'm not _'playing at'_ anything," he snapped a trifle testily. He could be nice sometimes; why did everyone always assume he was out to catch everyone off-guard? 

Oh, right. _Trickster._

"You look like you're going to keel over any second," he said after a moment. "Instead of taking care of everyone else, why don't you look after yourself for once?"

Sam shook his head. "Because this thing has already killed three people and since I can't go out there in the field, I have to make myself useful in some way, and-"

"And you can't do that running off three hours sleep each week, with nothing to eat and flu that sounds as if it has a better chance of offing you than Heaven, Hell or any monster ever did," huffed Gabriel. "Now listen to the millennia-old Archangel and _relax._ "

Sam snapped his mouth shut with a petulant frown and Gabriel rolled his eyes as he gently tugged Sam to his feet and led him to the couch.

"Sit," he ordered. "And stay. Now what's your favourite soup?"

Sam glanced at him as though he'd grown another head.

"Soup?" He asked incredulously and Gabriel chuckled. 

"It really is the best thing for colds and flu. So, you tell me what your favourite flavour is and I'll make some."

"You mean you'll snap some into existence?"

"Tom-ay-to, tom-ah-to."

"...Beef broth?" Sam asked shyly and Gabriel grinned and clicked his fingers, a piping hot bowl of broth appearing on a tray in Sam's lap and the younger Winchester inhaled the rich smells of sirloin beef, fresh vegetables and thick chunks of potato.

"Something tells me this isn't out of a tin," Sam half groaned and Gabriel smirked. 

"You're looking at a five-star chef, Samoose. Campbell's doesn't make delicacies like that."

Sam already had the spoon in his mouth and was moaning in bliss as the hot liquid trailed down his throat and warmed him to the core; the intense flavours exciting his numbed palate.

Gabriel smiled at having pleased the young human. See? He could be caring.

Then he snapped his fingers again and a mug of something deep scarlet and sweet smelling appeared on the coffee table beside the couch. Sam glanced at it curiously.

"Hot Ribena with a spoonful of honey," explained Gabriel and Sam pulled a face.

"Don't knock it 'till you try it," chuckled Gabe. "It's good for the cough."

"Sounds like pure sugar," commented Sam as he lifted it to his lips anyway and the archangel grinned.

"That's because it is. Doesn't mean it won't help."

The hunter closed his eyes as the sweet drink soothed his inflamed throat, washing away anything that didn't belong there, and he shook his head in amusement.

"Thanks," he offered quietly and Gabriel smiled one of those rare sincere smiles that unbeknownst to him, Sam really liked.

"No problem, kiddo."

After a few moments of silence where Gabriel stood awkwardly watching Sam spoon broth into his mouth, the younger Winchester screwed up his face and patted the seat next to him.

"You don't need to hover," he said as he switched the TV on and handed the remote to the archangel (which was pointless when Gabriel could actually star in the show himself if he so much as spared it a thought). "If I'm relaxing, so are you."

Gabriel blinked before cautiously sitting beside the hunter, shifting his wings until they were behind his back and not intruding on Sam's space.

Which Sam seemed displeased by.

He kept glancing at the golden appendages longingly and after a cough (that seemed a little put on if Gabriel was wholly honest), the archangel carefully slid three of the wings around Sam's back.

Sam immediately put his empty bowl and tray on the floor and snuggled into the wings, smiling at their warmth and closing his eyes whilst he nuzzled at the soft feathers. Gabriel's mouth went dry as his wings curled around Sam, trying to pull him closer as though Sam was his mate, and he idly wondered if his vessel had drained of colour in mortification when his feathers fluffed up again.

As Gabriel tried to shuffle as far away from the hunter as possible whilst said hunter was still using his huge wings as pillows, Sam cracked an eye open and glared half-heartedly at the archangel.

"Make up your mind, Gabe. Do you want to be here or not?"

Gabriel's fidgeting ceased and he slowly returned his attention to the TV which was playing some form of sitcom he wasn't familiar with. He was too distracted to change the channel.

How was he supposed to tell Sam that the reason he was acting so oddly was because the human was triggering his mating instincts; that because Sam was so caring, generous, intelligent and downright gorgeous, with one of the brightest souls Gabriel had ever seen, his mating instincts had been triggered and he was half-inclined to jump the younger Winchester in that moment?

How was he supposed to reveal to Sam that he'd loved the hunter for quite some time now?

Gabriel was snapped out of his musings when something warm and heavy curled into his body and he blinked, stunned at the way the pale Sam had burrowed into his side, using Gabriel's own wings to cover him like a blanket.

His shivering had lessened and Gabriel found his own hand wandering to rest protectively over the sick hunter's stomach, making Sam smile.

Gabriel's brain finally put two and two together.

Since when did a Winchester trust someone like this when they were so vulnerable? Since when did a Winchester seek out contact with another person like this? Since when did they let someone else who wasn't family take care of them when they needed it? 

Since when had Sam started smiling so brightly when Gabriel was around?

The archangel paused and slowly glanced down to find Sam looking at him anxiously, and he gulped faintly before tilting the human's chin up, forcing him to sit up more as Gabriel leaned down and captured his lips sweetly.

When they pulled apart, Gabe realised he was beaming and Sam was smiling at him in amusement.

Then, without a word, Gabriel pulled Sam's head into his lap and arced his wings around him securely, embracing his hunter warmly, and Sam made a soft sound of approval as he settled down and rested his hand on Gabriel's thigh as one of the archangel's hands tangled in his hair.

Sam closed his eyes again as Gabriel stroked his hair and no words were spoken as the hunter drifted into a peaceful sleep, resting comfortably and safely for the first time since he'd caught the dreadful flu.

And probably, if he was honest, for the first time in a very long while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm ill so I thought I'd do a sick!Sam fic. Hope you enjoyed!


	6. Misunderstanding

At twenty-three Dean wasn't looking forward to meeting his future mate. It wouldn't be so bad if he had even met the man beforehand, but it was one of those arranged marriage deals where two parties were supposed to benefit from a union of their respective offsprings. It was supposed to represent some sort of binding contract which meant two states could ally themselves together and import/export goods without being worried about potential mass poisonings or explosions.

In this case, Kansas and California were supposed to be sealing a deal.

This wouldn't be too much of a problem if Kansas wasn't a demonic state and California wasn't an angelic state. 

Angels and demons had been at war for centuries and even though the mass war had ended six decades ago, angels and demons were only just learning to tolerate one another, never mind live with one another. The mating of Kansas and California's leaders' sons was supposed to set an example for their respective people. It was supposed to show that angels and demons could live and work together in this modern day.

One of the major differences between demons and angels was their wings. Angels had pale colouring like creams and yellows, whereas demons had darker colouring like blacks and browns. 

Demons could also sharpen their stiffer feathers when they felt threatened or angry to be used as weapons, and their eyes would slide to inky blackness when experiencing intense emotions.

Angels had much softer, silkier wings, slightly smaller and lighter than a demon's and their eyes would glow brightly with their iris colour when experiencing certain emotions.

Neither species had had much contact with the other since the war had first started.

Dean sighed as he thought about his younger brother. He wondered if he'd get to see him often now that he was being forced to live in California for the remainder of his life, mated to some stuck-up, stereotypical angel who probably thought all demons were below him.

His raven wings drew up high and formal as the car slowed, and he slid out of the back seat when his guards opened the door for him. He was led to a grand hall in what constituted as California's main governmental building and he wasn't made to wait long before his future mate was guided into the room.

Dean blinked and his wings lifted and fanned above his shoulders in an unconscious effort at showing off in front of the gorgeous, white winged angel before him. 

The angel had stunning blue eyes and his pure white wings were held stiff and polite behind him, and Dean had the sudden urge to touch and soothe them into something more relaxed. 

"Dean Winchester, son of President John Winchester, this is Castiel Novak, son of President Zachariah Novak and the angel you are to be united with," announced a cream-winged angel, a distasteful sneer resting upon his features as he glanced at Dean.

Dean drank in the sight of his soon-to-be mate and suddenly considered himself very lucky that at least the angel was good-looking, and his wings fanned a little more.

Castiel was looking at him warily, glancing at his wings with a slight frown and the angel's own wings remained hidden behind his back, though they shifted uncomfortably high in an action that confused Dean.

Why was Castiel frightened of him?

A look at his face made Dean question himself. The angel certainly didn't look afraid; if anything he looked irritated, but his wings were practically pinned to his back as they raised tall above his shoulders, giving the impression of fear.

Dean's own wings slowly returned to their natural position and Castiel's relaxed marginally.

The annoying cream-winged angel was still speaking.

"...time to let you get to know one another. Is this amenable to you?"

Dean was just about to ask him to repeat the question when Castiel bit out a harsh response.

"That's fine, thank you."

The older angel nodded and turned on his heel to pace out the door, and Dean was aware of his demonic guards leaving too.

As soon as the doors shut, Castiel narrowed his gaze.

"Already claiming your territory?" He spat and Dean blinked before frowning.

"What are you talking about?"

"Your little display," huffed Castiel as he flapped his wings for emphasis. "Very subtle of you."

Dean scowled. What did this angel think he was? Some sort of savage? He must have believed Dean was trying to stake a claim on him when his wings had reacted to the angel's good looks. Stupid angel.

"Don't flatter yourself, darlin'," he snorted and Castiel's wings remained behind his back as they hitched high again.

Dean rolled his eyes. Honestly, there was no need to be afraid of him. Did this angel think he was just going to mate him now in the middle of the floor when neither of them wanted anything to do with this ridiculous marriage? Angels were so dense and vain at times.

"This is my home," growled Castiel and Dean crossed his arms, wings beginning to stretch slightly in annoyance.

"Our home," he corrected. "We're to be mated so I'm going to live here too. Don't worry, I'm not going to take away your precious virginity or whatever. I'm not fond of the idea of being tied to a prude like you for the rest of my life either."

Castiel's eyes flashed blue in anger. "How dare you-"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. You're purer and altogether better than demons in every way. Change the record, cloud-hopper."

Castiel's wings hitched higher than Dean thought was possible as his eyes glowed an intense blue.

"You should mind your tone, abomination," hissed Castiel and Dean's eyes slid to black as his feathers began to harden and sharpen.

"Aren't you just a joy to be around?" He sneered. "I can tell our mating is going to be wonderful. Bonding to a racist puritan is exactly what I wanted to do with my life."

Castiel stiffened. "I will never mate with you; no matter what our families say. You are crude, violent and conceited; you have no place here."

Dean narrowed his dark eyes. "Great. As long as we're both clear on that. Kindly don't speak to me again. Ever." And with that, he shoved past Castiel, making sure to jar his shoulder on his way out even as his wings swung out of the way so they didn't slice the angel's flesh open. Their respective people didn't need any more reasons for another war.

Castiel growled and looked ready to take a swing at Dean, but the demon was already half way out the door.

 

* * *

 

After a week, when Dean's guards had left him in the care of the angelic guards (who didn't seem to like him all that much if the disgusted glances were anything to by), Dean was expected to attend a welcome dinner, now that he had settled in to his new home. 

Castiel's mother and father were seated next to each other with Dean and Castiel opposite them. Castiel kept his wings pulled tight to his back in what looked, yet again, like fear as Dean tried to keep his wings relaxed by his sides.

Zachariah and Naomi kept shooting him disapproving looks.

Then again, they didn't seem all that fond of their own son either.

"How are you two getting along?" Asked Naomi with a tight smile and Castiel's response was clipped.

"Fine, thank you."

"Excellent," commented Zachariah. "It would probably be wise to discuss the mating ceremony then."

Dean stiffened as Castiel's wings began to shake. Dean stared at them for a few seconds. Was this angel constantly nervous?

Zachariah also noticed the movements and his gaze narrowed.

"Something on your mind, Castiel?"

"No," the younger angel grated out and Dean frowned at the conflicting signals. Was Castiel scared or angry?

"Good. Please cease your fidgeting," ordered Zachariah coldly and Castiel's wings stilled.

Naomi glanced at Dean disinterestedly. "I suppose your people have some sort of tradition for these types of affairs?"

Dean nodded his head. "...Yes m'am." He would have elaborated but Zachariah interrupted, tone laced with irritation.

"You are obviously displeased by something, Castiel. Speak your thoughts."

Castiel glared at him as his wings hitched high then fanned wide, making Dean extremely confused. Why was the angel displaying arousal? 

"I'm _displeased_ by the fact you've mated me off to a demon I don't know and have nothing in common with! You've planned my life out for me and have used me as a pawn to benefit your desires. You didn't even consult me when signing the contract that keeps me bound to this man for life," hissed Castiel and Dean's eyes widened at the outburst. He had never believed angels could be abrasive; had never thought they could be just as rebellious as demons. He had always assumed they blindly followed orders without much feeling on matters.

Maybe he had been wrong.

Zachariah's off-yellow wings fanned wide to match his son's as Naomi scowled in disapproval.

"You are being selfish. This mating is to ally our regions, not to ruin your life as you seem to have convinced yourself. We can't keep fighting a war forever and if this is the only way to make demons and angels understand we must learn to work together again, then your bachelorhood is a small price to pay, wouldn't you say?" Growled Zachariah.

Castiel grit his teeth together. "You could have informed me beforehand and Dean and I could have got to know one another before you forced us to mate in public. We don't know anything about each other and we're expected to wed each other in two months? Who agreed to that backward arrangement?"

Dean flicked a wing in appreciation. This angel had guts. He also had some valid points.

Naomi's wings flared and Dean was beginning to get the impression that an angel flaring its wings held an entirely different meaning to the aroused or flustered flaring of a demon's wings.

"Castiel," Naomi admonished. "We've taught you better than to defy us like this. Apologise to your father."

"Delay the mating ceremony," countered Castiel harshly. "Or better yet, cancel it. There are other ways to prove our people can work together."

"Castiel!" Ground out Zachariah. "For once, stop thinking about yourself and do as your parents say! We're only trying to do what's best for our people."

Castiel pushed away from the table, wings spanned wide and shaking tensely as he stood up.

"For once I wish you'd try doing what's best for your son," he spat coldly before whirling on his heel and stalking out of the room.

Dean watched him go curiously before turning to Zachariah and Naomi, who slowly returned to their meal as if none of it had happened. They moved onto a different conversation.

"Excuse me," murmured Dean, earning two raised eyebrows. "I'd like to check on my mate."

Zachariah gave a terse nod before returning his attention to his wife and Dean frowned before silently leaving the hall.

 

* * *

 

When Dean eventually found Castiel, the angel was in the stables, talking softly to a magnificent black thoroughbred. The angel calmly held his hand under the beast's nose and it sniffed him once before nudging at him gently, to which Castiel smiled and scratched its ear before offering it a polo mint from his pocket.

The horse practically inhaled it before nosing playfully at Castiel's chest and the angel's wings began to flutter delicately in a way Dean thought suited the angel, even if he wasn't familiar with the action.

Dean felt the corners of his own mouth twitch at Castiel's quiet laugh.

"What's her name?" He asked as he approached and Castiel stiffened before continuing his scratching of the horse's ears.

"Impala," he replied curtly and Dean nodded as he came to lean on the adjacent stable door, where a giant shire horse eyed him curiously.

"She's beautiful," he said and Castiel paused before frowning.

"Why are you here?" His wings hitched high again as they pulled tight to his back and Dean watched them with confusion.

"Are you afraid of me?" He asked eventually and Castiel rounded on Dean, wings spanning wide either side of him as his eyes flashed blue.

"Is that a threat?" Demanded Castiel and the demon held his hands up as he pulled his wings in as a gesture of surrender.

This seemed to irk Castiel more.

"If you're looking for a fight-"

"Woah, woah!" Dean cut in, alarmed. "I'm holding out a white flag here! I think we got off on the wrong foot."

Castiel stared at him suspiciously.

"You were the one who strode in like you owned the place."

Dean frowned. "I don't remember doing that."

Castiel crossed his arms. "When you first arrived. You flared your wings at me. How is that not an act of aggression?"

Dean blinked. Then he blinked again because Castiel didn't look like he was joking.

"Flared my...? Why would you think..." Dean trailed off as the epiphany struck him. "I think there's been a misunderstanding," he murmured quietly and Castiel raised an eyebrow.

"Oh? Do tell."

Dean gulped as everything clicked into place. Maybe he should have researched angels more before he came here.

"Uh... show me what your wings do when you're annoyed."

"What?" Huffed Castiel and Dean shook his head insistently.

"Just do it."

The angel narrowed his eyes as his wings swung to his back and raised above his shoulders.

Dean grimaced. He'd thought as much. 

"And when you're really angry?"

The angel snorted. "That's easy." The snowy appendages stretched either side of him, feathers slightly displaced from their usual pristine state. 

In demon culture, it was the perfect statement of interest.

Dean winced. "Ah. Um... I think we've been reading each other wrong. Like... a lot wrong."

Castiel's wing tips curved downwards slightly and Dean wondered if that was the angelic version of confusion. For demons, both wings tilted in opposite directions, like dog ears, to express uncertainty.

"What do you mean?" The angel asked suspiciously. "What do you do when you're annoyed or angry?"

Dean's wings stretched wide and tall, making him seem incredibly larger than he actually was and Castiel actually took a small step backwards. 

"And when we're angry..." Dean began sheepishly as all his feathers began to harden and sharpen like thin blades.

Castiel stared wide-eyed at the massive appendages. That looked far more aggressive than any other time he had seen the demon. Unconsciously, his own wings lowered and flattened like a cat's ears when they were scared.

Dean tilted his head. "What does that mean?"

Castiel flushed as he pulled his wings into a more respectable position.

"It means you're quite intimidating when you're enraged," he admitted and Dean immediately pulled his wings to his sides, feathers softening again.

"Sorry," he murmured sheepishly and Castiel shook his head.

"I'm the one who should be sorry. You were right... maybe there has been a communication error between us."

Dean scratched the back of his neck embarrassedly. "I didn't realise angels had different gestures to demons."

"Nor did I," confessed Castiel quietly and he wouldn't meet Dean's gaze.

They stood there awkwardly for a few moments.

"So... what did it mean when you flared your wings at me?" Asked Castiel with a frown and Dean flushed scarlet.

"It...uh... it meant..."

"Well?"

"...It meant I thought you were pretty hot."

Castiel's eyes widened before his wings suddenly fluffed up, silky feathers sticking out in every direction.

Dean couldn't tear his gaze away.

"...What does that mean?" He asked awestruck as he fought to restrain his urge to run a hand through the pure white feathers; soft and inviting and so very fragile.

Castiel's face was burning as his wings began to contort and flap wildly.

"Nothing."

Dean shot him an unimpressed glance and the angel flinched.

"...It means I'm... _interested._ "

Dean's mouth fell open as Castiel attempted to control his own body.

Suddenly, Dean laughed in disbelief.

"And here I thought my life was going to become very boring."

Castiel grimaced and Dean frowned.

"Hey," he said softly as he took a step forwards. "I'm not going to force you into doing anything with me. But I would like to get to know you, now we've sorted out our little misunderstanding... if that's okay?"

Castiel's gaze snapped up to him and Dean was once again struck by the beautiful pools of sapphire. The angel seemed to see something in Dean too, because he glanced away with a hint of a smile.

"I'd like that, Dean."

Dean grinned and held his hand out, which Castiel cautiously took in his own. 

"Then how about you show me some more wing gestures? Let's see how different we really are," smiled Dean as he led them out into the garden.

And if their wings slid around each other as the evening progressed, then that was their own business.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by _Julia_Misko_
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this one (it's a bit longer than the others)! I'll get right on the next one!


	7. Backseat

Jared had always had his suspicions; everyone had. Jensen and Misha had great chemistry on and off screen, it was true, but sometimes Jared had to wonder if there wasn't something _more_ to it.

And honestly, he had nothing against it if his two best friends were getting it on with each other out of business hours, but he just wished they'd tell him so he could stop wondering.

However, as he walked past one of the stunt cars on the way back to his trailer, he wondered if that would be necessary at all.

It was late in the evening and Jared was just coming home from the local bar. The day had been long and Jared had been stiff and tense from too many hours on set, so he had decided to relax with a long drink and some friendly company in the form of Richard, Rob and Matt.

Now he was wondering if maybe he shouldn't have taken that shortcut through the parking lot to get back to his trailer because he was pretty sure Impala #14 wasn't supposed to be rocking like that.

After an internal debate, Jared edged closer. He was curious. Besides, those voices might not actually be Jensen and Misha's voices; they could be thieves trying to steal the cars.

...Right, let's go with that.

"Ah... Jen..." Misha's voice was low, strained and Jared considered leaving the pair in the backseat and giving them some privacy, but he felt like he needed to know how deep this thing was between his friends.

"Ah... stop, stop... it hurts... ah..." Misha's voice was breathy and Jensen's was quick to respond.

"Sorry," he grunted. "It's stuck..."

"Ah... Right there... there... ah... _Jen!_ "

"Sorry, sorry," murmured Jensen again and there was quiet again, only broken by the gentle creaking of the car as it bounced on its axles and the odd gasp and breathy grunt.

Jared grimaced. Maybe he shouldn't be here. This was Misha and Jensen's private time; he shouldn't be intruding like this, even if the older actors had decided to do the horizontal tango in public.

"Harder... c'mon, Jen, harder," demanded Misha. "No, not like that; wiggle it around a little."

Jared pulled a face. He was used to Misha saying and doing weird things, but _'wiggle it around'_ wasn't exactly the most erotic thing to say to a bed partner.

"Ow!"

Jared startled at Misha's pained grunt and he half wondered if he should check if they were alright. Then again, what would he say? _'I heard you having sex and I thought you were in pain; need a hand'?_ Yeah, that would go down well.

"Stop squirming, Misha!"

"You try being at this angle!"

"Just... sit still. This is awkward enough as it is."

There was another round of quiet, punctuated by Misha's hisses and Jensen's grunts and Jared really did begin to worry for their well-being. What were they doing in there that would cause Misha so much pain? Horrified, yet strangely drawn to the scene, Jared pressed his ear up against the door of the car to see if he could get a clearer idea of what type of kink was going on in the backseat of Impala #14.

"Get it out," growled Misha. "Jensen, get it out... no, get off.... Jensen! Get off!"

There was some shuffling and a huff of irritation.

"I knew this was a bad idea the moment you asked me," snapped Jensen. 

"Shut up and sit over there," hissed Misha through clenched teeth. "I'll do it myself."

Jared winced. Trouble in paradise?

Some more shuffling and creaking.

"... I can't," grumbled Misha. "It's wedged in too tight."

Jared frowned. What the...?

"Hold on," sighed Jensen. "Maybe if we try from a different angle. Let me just open the door."

Jared's eyes blew wide with panic as the door he had his ear to unlocked and swung open, forcing him to shuffle backwards and fall flat on his backside.

Upon spotting him, Jensen froze, confusion written all over his features.

"...Jared?"

Misha popped his head up from the footwell, sweat glittering on his forehead and body twisted at an awkward angle, half on and half off the length of the backseats.

Both of them were thankfully clothed.

Jared tilted his head when he realised one of Misha's arms was trapped underneath the driver's seat, skin red and inflamed from where the metal frame was biting into it.

"...What are you doing?" Asked Jared after an awkward silence and Jensen opened his mouth and closed it again.

Misha scowled. "Trying to return blood flow to my arm." He gave another experimental tug of the trapped arm, which remained firmly stuck. 

Jared raised an eyebrow. This... wasn't what he'd been expecting. There was distinctly less 'fun' going on than what he had pictured.

"Um... how did you...?" Jared asked, mind still trying to cope with the fact that what he'd heard was not what he'd thought it was.

"Does it matter?" Huffed Misha. "I'm stuck and it hurts. Get me out of here!"

Jared blinked once then jumped into action, rounding the other side of the car and flinging the other door open so he had access to Misha and the front seat.

Jensen also joined him, opening the front passenger door, and after some uncomfortable shuffling and blind grasping, the seat tilted forwards on its frame, allowing Misha's arm to slide free.

The smaller man quickly yanked his arm out and scrabbled out of the car, holding the aching limb with his other hand as he glanced gratefully to Jared.

"Thanks. I thought I was gonna be stuck there all night."

Jared smiled. "No problem." He stifled a yawn. Today had been a long, confusing, misleading day. "I think I'm gonna go to bed. You okay or do we need to take you to a hospital?" Asked Jared concernedly and Misha shook his head.

"Nah, I'm fine. Go to bed, Jay. And thanks again."

The gentle giant nodded sleepily, before smiling at Jensen and turning to trudge back to his trailer.

When he finally tucked himself into bed, a stray thought struck him. What had Misha and Jensen originally been doing in the backseat to get stuck like that?

Deciding to ask them about it the next morning, Jared drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

 

* * *

 

"I am never listening to your bright ideas again," grumbled Jensen without much heat as Misha slid into bed beside him, quickly worming his way into the younger man's arms.

"Maybe that one worked better in theory," admitted Misha sheepishly, smiling when Jensen wrapped his arms around him protectively.

"You sure you're okay?" The younger actor asked and Misha nodded drowsily, eyes beginning to close now he was being embraced by his lover in the comfort of Jen's trailer.

"I'm sure. Go to sleep, love," he murmured and Jensen settled down, tugging his lover a little closer to his chest.

"Do you think we should tell Jay about us?"

Misha yawned. "Can do if you want. He'll find out sooner or later anyway."

Jensen smiled, satisfied with the answer, and nuzzled into raven hair.

"Goodnight, Mish. I love you."

Misha tightened his grip around Jensen's middle.

"Goodnight, Jen. I love you too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by _Julia_misko_
> 
> Bit of a short one this time! Still, hope it made you smile!
> 
> Once again, requests are encouraged; just comment a word and a pairing! Thanks for reading.


	8. Summer

Gabriel watched his flock lounge around the lakeside with a fond smile, and his wings, morphed into a solid state of physicality for the benefit of the two humans in his flock, fanned wide under the hot sun.

Dean's fishing line stretched a fair distance into the water and the man himself was only half paying attention to the way the bait bobbed and dipped in the gentle waves of the secluded lake; more focused on the sight of Sam and Cas chatting happily on the bank as their feet dangled in the cool water.

Sam ran loving fingers through a few of Cas' black feathers, shifting them back into place and the seraph subtly slid his hand over Sam's free one, causing the younger hunter to smile brightly and for Dean to quirk a grin a little distance away.

Dean had always liked seeing his family happy.

Gabriel felt his grace expand with love and affection for the beings below him and his wings fluttered contentedly at the thought that they actually wanted to be in his flock; to be with him. They were his lovers; his _mates_ and he would do anything for them.

Including zapping them off to his own private cabin in a secluded part of Austria, in the middle of summer where the sun was hot and the lake clear, just so they could all take a break from the world around them.

When Amara and Chuck had disappeared to have some family bonding time and Dean had returned with a very confused Mary Winchester, proving he hadn't died in the name of saving the Earth, only to find that Sam had been kidnapped and shot (nothing fatal, but enough to seriously wound him), there was nothing on Earth that could've stopped _Team Free Love*_ (plus mother) from saving the youngest member of their flock.

After rescuing Sam from the psychotic British branch of the Men of Letters and watching Sam and Dean struggle to come to terms with the fact that their mother was alive again, Gabriel had looked around the exhausted and emotional faces of his mates and informed them they were going to be taking a holiday, snapping his fingers before any of them got a chance to protest.

There had been some heated arguing when they'd first arrived (mostly because they were all drained and Mary shouldn't have been left alone when they'd only just reunited with her after her being dead for so many years), but one explanation of pocket dimensions and time freezing later, coupled with four days of relaxation and family bonding, they had all settled comfortably into this little break, courtesy of Gabriel, and couldn't actually remember why they had protested in the first place.

There was the gentle thud of something landing on the cabin roof, behind Gabriel and the archangel didn't need to turn to know that Castiel had joined him.

He lifted three of his six wings in invitation and the seraph sat quietly beside him, leaning into the archangel slightly as Gabriel wrapped the three raised wings around him.

"Thank you for this," murmured Castiel after a little while as he watched Sam read, legs still dangling off the bank as Dean reeled his line in, a small colourful fish dangling from its end which, after a brief inspection, Dean carefully unhooked and threw back in the water.

Gabriel slid his arm around the younger angel, splaying his hand over Cas' stomach. Protective archangel instincts often took over when he was around his mates. No one seemed to mind though, least not Castiel, whom Gabriel had taught to fly and use his grace when they were all a big happy family back in Heaven.

Cas rested his head against Gabe's shoulder.

"We needed it," he whispered and Gabriel squeezed him gently.

"You all work yourselves far too hard. You need to rest for a while."

Cas gently turned the older angel's head to capture his lips tenderly. Gabriel always marvelled at how he was wanted by another angel; especially a younger one who he had abandoned in Heaven when his brothers' fighting got too much, yet Cas always said he was the one who was humbled by the fact an almighty archangel wanted to be with him; a mere foot soldier who had broken the world too many times to count.

They suited each other perfectly.

"So do you," breathed Cas, snapping Gabriel out of his musings and the archangel tangled his fingers in soft raven tufts as he mouthed at the younger angel's lips.

Their wings curled around one another, gold mingling with black as they became lost in the taste of each other.

It could have been hours or mere minutes when they finally pulled apart, but their smiles were warm and their feathers ruffled as Cas tucked his head under Gabriel's chin.

The archangel held him for a few moments, letting their graces chase each other playfully before settling close to one another, embracing and comforting each other.

Gabriel stroked one of his lover's wings.

"Do you think Mary will like us?"

Castiel paused before leaning back a little and staring at his mate curiously.

"When she learns we're not like the monsters she's been trained to kill, I assume so. Why?"

Gabriel shrugged as he glanced at his other two mates, content and relaxed under the sun.

"She's important to them."

Castiel gazed at him with unbridled love and claimed his lips again, slow and passionate as though he needed it to survive.

"Under all the Pagan bravado and brashness, you are still the brother I remember," whispered Cas and Gabriel's grace flared warm and bright as he tugged the younger angel closer, deepening their kiss.

"Mary will love us," assured Cas between kisses. Gabriel made an odd sound at the back of his throat before pulling back with a worried frown.

"What if... what if she doesn't approve? I mean... it's a lot to take in. Her sons are in a very active relationship with not only each other, but a seraph and an archangel; both of whom are unwelcome in Heaven. Human judgement can be shallow and unbending... what if she's disgusted?" Gabriel's voice was anxious, wings fidgeting slightly and Castiel buried a hand in one to steady it, before gazing sternly at his mate.

"Whatever happens, be sure that Sam and Dean will not leave us," he stated firmly and he felt Gabriel's wings lean into his touch. "They will never leave us because they love us too much." He gently cupped Gabriel's cheek.

"We're important to them too, brother."

Gabriel sighed as he placed his hand over Cas'.

"I don't want to make them choose between us and her," he said quietly and Cas frowned as he glanced back to the two sunbathing humans.

"If she's anything like them, they won't have to." He turned back to the archangel. "They're her children. She'll love them whatever they choose. Even if that happens to be us."

Gabriel allowed himself a small smile. 

"I hope she does, fledgling. I don't think I'd be able to give any of you up now I've had a taste." He wiggled his eyebrows ridiculously almost as an afterthought and Castiel snorted.

"And for all your euphemisms we would be lost without you, Gabe."

The archangel's gaze softened and he pressed his lips to the seraph's once more.

"I like it when you call me that. You should do it more often, little one."

Castiel smiled and snuggled into Gabriel's chest, seeking affection and safety, and the archangel wound his arms around the younger angel possessively, holding him tight.

Suddenly, they both felt the urge to be close to the rest of their flock.

"C'mon," murmured Gabriel. "We have some mates to take care of."

Castiel allowed his mate to tug him upright and they both gracefully leapt off the roof, Gabriel playfully looping around the seraph once before fluttering to a halt beside their hunters.

Gabriel crawled into Sam's lap, fluffing his wings up because he knew the younger human liked fondling his feathers, and Cas stood beside Dean silently, only for the older Winchester to tug him onto his knee with a smirk. Cas smiled and snuggled into the hunter's chest, sighing happily when Dean carded his fingers soothingly through his wing.

Mary might like them and she might not, but either way, their mates would always love them and Gabriel and Castiel wouldn't have it any other way.

Coincidentally, Sam and Dean weren't thinking of giving their angels up any time soon, and with the sun warming their bodies and the lake providing gentle movement amongst the beautiful green backdrop of Austria, both Winchesters could honestly say they hadn't been this happy for a long, long time. 

 

\----------------

_* Formerly Team Free Will, but then after one particularly messy and disastrous Pagan Demigod hunt Gabriel had suggested they all get together and have hot orgies every night because, hey, why not? They'd all died too many times to not be considered a little messed up, to which the others sort of just nodded their heads after a few awkward moments and said 'okay'._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really like writing Wincest (can you tell?); just not my cup of tea, but I got away with this one because it was a foursome fic ;) 
> 
> Thanks for the suggestion, _Wincestiel_shadwolEXOL_ and I hope you liked this despite the lack of Wincest!
> 
> Once again guys, prompts and relationships in the comments please ;)


	9. First Date

The new angel on set was gorgeous. He had bright blue eyes, a warm smile and the strangest wings Jensen had ever seen. They were like a raven's; a deep black which glinted purples, greens and blues when at the right angle under the light. Jensen had never seen an angel with black wings.

Then again, demons usually didn't make much contact with angels anyway.

Angels were generally seen as upper class, with humans making up middle and working class and demons lying at the bottom of the hierarchy, in working and lower class.

This was probably due to angels being generally more patient and reserved than humans and the more aggressive demons, and as history progressed, angels were seen to be far more well-read, talented and intelligent than their human and demon counterparts. Demons tended to be more intolerant, violent and bull-headed and as such, they were seen as better tradespeople, skilled in tasks that required strength and brute force. They were also taken on a servants to rich humans or angels.

These were the reasons why Jensen, with his sandy tail and horns, was so grateful for the fact that human Eric Kripke had taken a chance on him and Jared, and had allowed them to be the main stars in his show, _Supernatural_.

At first, the crew had been worried that no one would watch it; demons generally weren't picked as main actors as angels and humans were usually the ones who had money, however, the show was diverse enough for humans to watch even if angels chose not to waste their time with a series about two demonic brothers.

When season four rolled around (and wasn't it a miracle that the show had kept on air for this long?) Kripke had decided they needed to open up to a new demographic if they wanted to keep afloat.

So Misha had been invited for an audition.

Despite demons and angels generally not getting on very well (demons throught angels were snobs and prudes, angels thought demons were savage beasts), Jensen couldn't help but admit he maybe had a bit of a crush on the shy and quiet Misha Collins.

He was a little bit awkward and timid; choosing to stay on his own when filming finished (but that was probably because the only other angels were Robert Wisdom, who wasn't around all that much because of other jobs, and Richard Speight Jr., who was practically the polar opposite of every other angel in existence - rather like a hyperactive puppy on crack). Misha also put on a weird, gravelly voice for Castiel, which initially took Jensen off guard, but he didn't mention it for fear of upsetting the angel; he probably wouldn't take too kindly to being teased by a lowly demon.

Still, despite the stereotypes of angels, Jensen thought Misha looked lonely and since nobody had seemed interested in speaking to him, he decided to offer to take the angel for some lunch.

He ignored the fluttery feelings in his chest and pretended not to think about how this felt a lot like a date. He had barely even spoken to the other man! It wasn't as if an angel would ever want to be involved with a demon, but it couldn't hurt to try for a friendship, could it?

When they were in the car Misha kept glancing at him almost nervously as his wings fidgeted behind him and Jensen grimaced. Did Misha think he was going to hurt him? Did he really believe Jensen to be the aggressive monster that all demons were stereotyped as?

His tail began to flick worriedly.

They arrived at the restaurant and they both received a few raised eyebrows upon entry; it was unheard of for an angel and demon to sit at a table together, and demons rarely frequented this particular high-class establishment in the first place, but Jensen had wanted to impress Misha; show him that not all demons were crude and loud.

When they took their seats Misha eyed the patrons warily, wings twitching as they turned their noses up at him and Jensen's eyes widened as he realised he'd caused Misha to be looked down upon by his fellow angels.

His leathery tail thumped the floor in distress and a few human waiters startled, glancing at him concernedly as if he was about to cause a scene, and he ducked his head in embarrassment as Misha looked at him.

"So... um... how are you finding filming?" Jensen stuttered out, trying to change the tense atmosphere that had settled and Misha tilted his head slightly.

"It's... interesting," mumbled Misha. "Everyone seems friendly with one another. It's a good atmosphere."

Jensen's tail wriggled around on the floor; the demon equivalent of twiddling thumbs. 

"That's nice to hear. We do try to make everyone feel welcome." He winced as soon as he said it. Nobody had made an effort to talk to Misha off set due to his species. The angel was often sitting alone outside his trailer, watching people walk past and ignore him.

Misha glanced away and Jensen closed his eyes. If he wanted to confirm the opinion that demons were insensitive brutes, then he was doing a fine job of it.

"...I've... uh... I've never worked with demons before," admitted Misha and Jensen glanced up. "It's certainly different to what I'm used to," the angel said and Jensen felt his eyes wanting to slide to black in defence. This is what he'd been worried about; Misha turning out to be just like every other high and mighty angel and belittling demons because he thought he was better than them.

"In contrast to what most angels think, demons can be skilled in other areas than trade and service roles," frowned Jensen and Misha turned wide eyes upon him as his wings began to fidget even more.

"...I'm quite aware of that. I auditioned because I wanted a change in scenery. It can get tiresome conversing with people who have nothing better to do than flaunt their wealth."

Jensen felt his jaw snap shut. Well, he'd misjudged this angel already and they'd only spent a few minutes in each other's company.

"...Sorry," muttered Jensen. "That wasn't very polite of me."

Misha offered him a brief, tight smile as his wings pinned themselves to his back.

"It's understandable. My people haven't exactly treated yours with respect over the centuries."

Dean flinched as his tail hit the floor again, causing a few more people to glance at him warily. He really didn't want the conversation to go in the direction of angels vs. demons. There was already so much politics and hatred and violence spreading around; he didn't need to get into a heated argument with one of his coworkers as well.

"You ready to order?" Jensen asked, attempting to change the subject and Misha must have realised what he was doing because he flushed a pretty pink that had Jensen's tail swishing along the floor, tripping the waitress up as she approached.

The human glared at him and he yanked his tail in, mortified when Misha glanced away with what appeared to be a small smile (was the angel mocking him?) and she made a point of turning to Misha and taking his order first due to his status.

"What can I get for you, Sir?"

Misha sobered and looked a little uncomfortable as he read out his order (soup of the day with a glass of rose wine) and then the waitress turned to Jensen with a narrowed gaze.

"And you?"

Jensen's tail curled around the leg of his chair as he gave his order of _'the same, please'_ (he would have ordered a burger or something equally as meaty, but seeing as this sort of restaurant didn't prepare things like that, he might as well raise himself to Misha's standards).

Misha glanced at him oddly, a scarlet hue to his cheeks and Jensen realised that he wasn't actually gripping his chair with his tail.

He was squeezing Misha's ankle.

"I'm so sorry," stammered Jensen as his tail shot around his own leg. "I thought you were a chair." 

Misha shook his head with an amused grin as his wings began to relax a little.

"It's fine. Don't worry about it."

Jensen glanced away. Why was he being so awkward? He wasn't like this with anyone else. Maybe he was just intimidated by angels. Well, angels that weren't Richard.

"...Have I upset you?" Misha asked quietly, tone wary and when Jensen next looked up, he caught a reflection of himself in the window and noticed his eyes had slid to black in humiliation.

"I'm sorry, I didn't meant to cause you any discomfort- "

"It's not you," Jensen hurried to interrupt. People were beginning to stare and Misha's gorgeous wings were flat to his back in the picture of submissiveness; something that was bound to make others believe Jensen was threatening the other man somehow.

"I'm just being awkward, and I'm embarrassed about my tail being wrapped around your leg, and people are beginning to stare because angels and demons never sit together and I've possibly just ruined your image because not only am I a demon, but I also tripped the waitress up because I'm so clumsy and-"

"Jensen."

The commanding but calm tone stopped Jensen's ramblings immediately and he looked up to see Misha's eyes sparkling in amusement.

...Misha's eyes were really attractive.

"Breathe, Jensen. You look like you're about to keel over."

Jensen's tail thumped the floor again. Misha thought he was a moron. He'd messed up and made a fool of himself and now the angel was laughing at him. He was such an idiot.

Misha watched his tail curiously even as the other customers scowled at him once more.

"What does that mean?" Misha asked. "When you hit the floor with your tail. What does it mean?"

Jensen stared at his tail, watching it twist and contort.

"It means I'm embarrassed. I'm ashamed that I've somehow managed to offend you, publicly humiliate you and unintentionally flirt with you all in the space of the first fifteen minutes we've properly spoken to one another."

Misha was quiet for a moment and Jensen risked a glance at him, only to be surprised to find the angel smiling at him, wings fluttering gently behind him in a way that made them look incredibly soft and silky at the same time as allowing deep blues and seductive purples to shine off them at different angles.

"Your wings are beautiful," blurted Jensen before his eyes blew wide and slid to black again in mortification.

To his shock, Misha's eyes glowed a dim blue as his feathers fluffed out like a young bird's in the cold.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to offend you," whispered Jensen, tail thumping the floor like a rabbit's foot.

"You... you didn't offend me," stuttered Misha as he frantically fought to return his feathers to their normal position, eyes fading to their natural sapphire again.

"Nobody's ever complimented my wings before," Misha confessed. "They're not exactly attractive by angel standards. Black isn't an inviting colour and it's too unusual to be considered anything but intimidating and... uh... well, repulsive."

He bowed his head, wings swinging behind his back again and Jensen realised it was a way to hide them. He frowned.

"That's ridiculous. Your wings are stunning; there are so many different colours in them when the light shines on them just right, and they look so soft and delicate, like fine silk. How can anyone not like them?"

Misha's eyes were glowing again and Jensen couldn't help but stare at those bright pools of blue; like moonlight glinting off the ocean. His tail swayed interestedly as Misha's wings began to fluff up again.

"I think your horns are very handsome," mumbled Misha, unable to meet Jensen's gaze and the demon winced as his tail hit the floor a little too hard, making Misha jump.

The soup came (to the demon's relief) and Jensen pulled a face at the first taste. It was an angelic dish, but how they stomached these kinds of foods, Jensen didn't know. Caviar wasn't something Jensen would think to include in a broth.

Misha caught his expression and put his spoon down.

"This isn't really my crowd either," he admitted and Jensen's gaze snapped up to him. 

"I don't really know of any other fancy restaurants-"

Misha shook his head, cutting the other man off.

"What I mean is, I much prefer a dive bar over a five star, stuffy, formal-dress restaurant any day. The clientele here are a little too stiff for my tastes."

Jensen raised an eyebrow. "You'd prefer a dive bar to this?" He gestured around the elegant furnishings, eloquent lamps and ornate furniture giving off the impression of luxury.

Misha shrugged. "I guess I'm not like other angels. I suppose that's why I don't fit in with them very well."

Jensen tilted his head slightly as he looked the angel up and down.

"Do you want to get out of here? I know a bar closer to set. Good food, friendly people."

Misha chuckled. "That's the best thing I've heard all day."

Jensen grinned, tail wiggling at Misha's happiness and the angel raised an eyebrow at it, making the demon avert his gaze as the appendage stilled.

Misha reached for his wallet, but Jensen stopped him, throwing some bills on the table before the angel had a chance to protest and without really thinking about it, he wrapped his tail around the base of Misha's wing and hauled him to his feet.

A few surrounding angels stiffened, eyes wide and wings tense and Jensen paled when Misha glanced around the room, wings hitched high and wary. He should have known not to touch Misha's wings; angels were a very reserved species and they took great offence to being touched by those who weren't close friends or lovers. A demon touching an angel wouldn't go down well at all.

The other customers were beginning to glare at Jensen, sneering and turning their noses up at him in disgust, and Jensen felt himself shrink down in an attempt to make himself smaller.

He was caught off guard when Misha draped a wing over his shoulders and flashed a blinding grin at the other angels, making them gasp or turn away in mortification.

Jensen's eyes blew wide at the smirking angel and Misha wiggled his eyebrows ridiculously as he led them out of the restaurant. Jensen's heart did something funny in his chest and he blinked at the strange feelings before focusing back on Misha.

"So where's this bar?" Asked Misha, wings bobbing eagerly as he smiled slyly at Jensen in a way that the demon wasn't used to but somehow wasn't out of place on this particular angel. 

So much for Misha being shy and awkward.

"C'mon, I'll drive us both there," said Jensen, making his way over to the car.

When they both slipped into their seats, Jensen was surprised by Misha's wing brushing his tail suggestively, and his eyes automatically slid to black in arousal. The angel laughed at his horrified face as he frantically tried to return his eyes to their natural colour.

"If you wanted to take me on a date, you could've just asked," smirked Misha and Jensen's jaw dropped as he stared at the other man.

"I- I'd never- It's not like that, I- You're an angel and- I- I..." Jensen gulped as he tried to calm his thoughts and he let his gaze wander over Misha's figure. This angel wasn't like any other angel he'd met before and it seemed as though he had a lot more to learn about Misha. He wasn't the man Jensen had assumed he was.

"...I'd like that," he settled on eventually and Misha beamed at him in a way that had his heart doing more funny little things again. Misha's wings began to flutter and Jensen recognised the gesture as happiness or excitement.

And if a tail buried itself in black feathers as they drove, then no one else was there to see it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by _BeanSi_
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this and that it was what you were looking for!


	10. Haircut

"Gabriel says you threatened him today with a pair of scissors in front of his customers. Is that true, Dean? He seemed rather annoyed about it. He said you lost him quite a few clients this afternoon," called Castiel with a frown as he stepped into their apartment with two handfuls of shopping bags.

Upon receiving no response, the older man frowned and ventured a little further into their home.

"Dean?" He tried. "Are you home?"

There was some shuffling and a muffled curse from the bathroom and Castiel padded towards it.

"Dean? I'm serious, whatever opinions you hold of my brother mustn't be broadcast publicly. What if someone had called the police? I know you would never hurt one another, but others might not. You could have got yourself into trouble."

Another hissed curse and Cas noticed the shower was running. He carefully knocked on the door.

"...Are you alright?"

"Fine," grated out Dean before swearing again.

Cas paused. What exactly had happened between Gabriel and Dean? So far he'd only had his brother's side of the story, but maybe there was a reason to Dean's uncharacteristic bout of public violence.

"...Can I come in?" Asked Cas cautiously and there was some frantic scrambling and a string of curses.

"No!" Came Dean's panicked voice and the older man frowned in confusion and put his hand on the door handle.

"Dean, what's wrong? You sound... frustrated."

"...Just... don't come in. I'm... uh... just don't come in."

Castiel scowled. Something was obviously wrong. Dean never hid anything from him, so whatever had happened between him and Gabe was obviously very serious. 

"Dean, please. I'm concerned about you."

"Don't come in!" Came Dean's frazzled voice and the older man pursed his lips and pushed on the door.

Dean swore and scrambled into the shower, pulling the shower curtain across to hide his body from his lover before Cas got a chance to look at him.

"Are you okay?" Cas asked the shower curtain with a raised eyebrow and it spoke back in a petulant voice.

"I told you not to come in."

"I was worried about you. Why won't you look at me?"

"You'll laugh."

That made Castiel tilt his head in confusion. Why would Dean believe he'd laugh at something which was obviously causing him great distress?

"I promise I won't," he said carefully. "Now will you please come out of the shower?"

"No."

Cas blinked. This was becoming very worrisome. What had Gabriel done or said to Dean that had made him so skittish? He would be having stern words with his brother later on...

"Please come out? I need to know you're alright and if not, I want to help. I promise I won't laugh; I love you, Dean. I don't like seeing you hurt."

There was a tense pause before the shower curtain sighed and began to rustle.

"I'm not hurt, angel, just..." he trailed off before slowly stepping out to reveal himself.

Despite previous promises, Cas had to bite down very hard on his tongue to stop himself from bursting out into fits of laughter. He mustn't have done as well as he thought he had though, because Dean suddenly glared at him and crossed his arms.

"Go on. Laugh it up," he mumbled irritatedly and Cas managed to sober himself before taking a few cautious steps towards his fiancé.

"...It's certainly... different," he offered and Dean stared at him, unimpressed.

"It looks ridiculous."

"It's... fashionable?"

"It looks like I'm going through a punk phase."

Cas couldn't deny that. No wonder Dean had gone berserk at Gabriel if the hairdresser had created the bright blue monstrosity resting atop his head. His usual sandy brown tufts were gelled and spiked up like a 70's rockstar and his whole head was dyed a bright garish blue.

"I look like a parrot," grouched Dean and Cas couldn't help but snicker at that. They were cut short by Dean's harsh glower.

"You can't wash it out?" Asked Cas and Dean shook his head.

Castiel would definitely be having words with his brother.

"I can't turn up to work like this," huffed Dean. "I'll never live it down."

"...You could wear a hat?"

"Cas!"

"My apologies," chuckled Castiel. "But I actually don't see another way of hiding your... ah... new look. If the dye won't wash out, that means Gabriel has used the permanent stain which will probably take around six weeks to fade. You may have no other choice but to don a hat."

Dean swore quietly under his breath. "Your brother sucks," he hissed and Cas nodded his head.

"I will be lecturing him tomorrow, I assure you." 

It at least seemed to make Dean a little happier, but he didn't exactly look ecstatic by the prospect of the next six weeks.

Cas' face softened and he pulled Dean into his arms, kissing his forehead gently.

"It's not as bad as it seems, really," he tried and Dean snorted. 

"Promise to stab your brother with a pair of scissors tomorrow?"

Cas nuzzled his lover's cheek. "That's assault."

"So's turning someone's hair the colour of a Smurf."

"I'll talk to him about it."

Dean huffed and melted into Cas' embrace, burying his face into the older man's neck. After a few minutes, Cas frowned thoughtfully.

"What did you do to Gabriel to cause him to cut your hair like this?"

Dean was silent.

"Dean?" Cas asked, shifting until he could stare at his lover's blue head.

There was a muffled answer and Castiel pulled away from his fiancé, forcing him to speak up.

"What did you do, Dean?"

Dean glanced to his feet sheepishly.

"I told Sam about Gabe's crush on him... whilst your brother was in the room..."

Cas' eyes widened. "Dean! Why would you do that?"

"Well, he put skittles in the footwells of the Impala and I still haven't got them all out! And besides, it's not as if Sam doesn't have a crush on Gabriel and I think telling Sammy about your brother's big gay love for him was a fitting punishment for making Baby sticky!"

Castiel blinked. "Wait, Sam likes Gabriel?"

Dean nodded, rolling his eyes. "Isn't it obvious? Their staring contests rival ours back when we didn't know how to admit our feelings for one another."

Castiel raised a contemplative eyebrow. Maybe he shouldn't be so harsh on Dean; afterall, giving their brothers a little push in the right direction couldn't be a bad thing.

He shook his head and tugged Dean back into his arms, where the younger man happily snuggled into his neck again.

"You gonna yell at Gabe tomorrow?" Asked Dean hopefully and Cas smirked as he ran his hand over Dean's hair. He pulled a face at its unusual stiffness.

"If that's what you want."

Dean smiled. "Good."

They held each other for a few moments, sharing tender kisses and affectionate touches.

"I really do want our brothers to be happy," murmured Dean and Cas smiled wide. Dean had a big heart really, no matter how tough he talked. He also cared for Gabriel more than he let on, just like the other man cared for him.

"I know. We can help them to each other if that's what you want. I know Gabriel will never make the leap from friends to something more unless Sam makes the first move. For all his bravado, my brother isn't the most confident of people when it comes to relationships."

Dean closed his eyes and peppered kisses along Cas' jaw.

"They'll be good for one another," he whispered and Cas chuckled as he caught Dean's lips with his own.

"Sap," he murmured and Dean smiled as he deepened their kiss.

"You love it."

"I do."

A few heated kisses later, Dean pulled away slightly.

"Would you consider jabbing Gabe with the curling tongues, instead? Preferably when they're on?"

Cas rolled his eyes and pulled his fiancé in for another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by _AliceInWonderland_
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it and sorry it's a little short.
> 
> In case people were wondering, Dean's haircut was taken from his role in 'Ten Inch Hero'.


	11. Birds

Dean gazed fondly at his best friend of fourteen years, eyes warm and affectionate as the other teen crossed his legs on the grass and stilled his movements, watching as the birds flitted about them both.

Castiel and Dean had been friends since they were three years old. They'd grown up together and when Dean's mother had died, Castiel had been there to comfort Dean and his little brother, Sam, when times got too hard to bear. 

And boy, did times get hard.

John Winchester, Dean's father, was an alcoholic. Ever since Mary had died, John had looked to whisky and beer to solve his issues. This meant that he often forgot to feed his sons, or shouted at them when they were being a little too loud for his tastes. Once or twice he'd even smacked them for answering back to him.

Needless to say, Sam and Dean tried to keep out of their father's way when they could.

Castiel however, had never been offered much attention when he was growing up, despite being from a very wealthy background. He had no siblings (but he did have a bunch of annoying, yet protective older cousins) and as such, with his parents favouring work and social events over their own son, he grew up rather lonely.

Fortunately, his cousins had relieved some of his boredom when they had visited, but Dean (and later, Sam) had always been there to pester Castiel when he needed company. 

They grew up together, exploring the world with one another and trying new things away from their parents' (not-so-watchful) gazes until they had become nearly inseparable.

As they grew older, they helped one another through their schooling and social life, with Cas tutoring Dean with arts and sciences, and Dean teaching Cas maths and sports. Castiel even tried to give Dean a few piano lessons when they had nothing else to do with their time, just as Dean showed Cas how to strip down an engine and piece it all back together again.

They enjoyed one another's company and the more they learned about one another, the stronger their friendship grew. 

They visited the cinema, skated at the local roller rink, strolled around the nearby park and even spent a night at the supposedly haunted abandoned hospital, searching for ghosts and lost spirits. 

They didn't find any, but it was still fun and they managed to scare one another at least three times, even if it had landed them both a severe grounding.

They ate ice cream during the Summer and drank delicious hot chocolate in the Winter, piled high with whipped cream and marshmallows and chocolate sprinkles, and despite their strange families, life couldn't be better.

Then High school rolled around, Dean discovered girls and Castiel, well... Cas just stayed _Cas_.

He would watch Dean make out with girls in corridors, flushed red when they groped at one another and scuttled off when they began to groan each other's names.

He didn't mean to watch them, it was just sometimes he stumbled across his friend with various females and he tried to work out what Dean found so exciting about the rushed, impersonal feelings of another sweaty body pressed against his own.

He never could work it out though, so he merely shrugged and deemed it something his friend liked to do; after all, everyone had their own preferences.

After a few months though, Cas began to believe there was something wrong with him. 

All the other boys of his age were talking about what it was like to be with a girl (or in some cases, another boy) and their eager descriptions of sex and lovemaking were endless, yet Castiel never found himself getting aroused like the others. He would sit patiently through the stories, but instead of wanting to find out more, he just wanted the tales to be over so they could all get back to doing something more productive. He found no pleasure in their graphic depictions of their Saturday nights.

Even Dean began to worry about him. He suggested maybe Castiel should have a bit of fun with a girl one Saturday evening, and desperate to find if he could fix whatever was wrong with him, Castiel agreed.

The two friends visited a club and Dean waited for Cas to start dancing with a cute black-haired chick with stunning eyes before setting his sights on a red head by the name of Anna.

Castiel and Hannah eventually left the club together and Hannah took Castiel back to her place, and the two disappeared into the bedroom, sneaking past her sleeping parents.

The next morning Dean found Castiel weeping silently in his room, and he climbed the trellis (like he usually did when he didn't want Mr. and Mrs. Novak to know of his presence in their elegant home) and pulled his friend into a hug before asking what had happened.

Castiel revealed how Hannah had kissed him and asked him to touch her breasts, and he had, but he had gained no arousal from it. He might as well have been stroking a wall; it didn't mean anything to him. 

Then she had slipped her underwear off and begun to undo his pants and alarm bells had flared in Cas' mind so he had taken a step backwards. She had been confused and tried to touch him again, but he suddenly wasn't comfortable and pushed her away, quickly tucking himself in.

She had called him a coward and a freak before kicking him out with the parting words that he was obviously broken, and Cas had been so embarrassed at her parents overhearing that he had called his father to pick him up.

His parents hadn't paid any heed to his tear-stained cheeks and his quiet sniffles and Castiel had cried himself to sleep.

So Dean, determined to work out what was wrong with his friend, consulted the most reliable source of information in the entire universe.

The internet.

"You're asexual," Dean had announced the next day at school, where no one could overhear and Cas had lifted an eyebrow in confusion, before Dean joined him in the cool shade of the large oak tree that marked their usual eating spot, and proceeded to show his friend all his research.

Cas had quickly realised that there wasn't actually anything wrong with him and he was indeed asexual. He didn't like sex and he didn't get aroused like his friends, but that was okay because that didn't mean he couldn't fall in love or get married. He just had to find the right person.

Dean was very supportive throughout his exploration of his sexuality and he defended Cas when people called him cruel names or mocked him.

These methods of defence usually landed Dean in detention, but it was okay because Cas would often do something rebellious just to be stuck in detention beside him.

Dean cut down on his Saturday night 'fun' in favour of making Castiel less uncomfortable (besides, sex with random girls had become stale and boring; it had for some reason lost the excitement and unpredictability it had once held). Instead, the pair preferred to spend time with one another, laughing and goofing around until they fell asleep or were forced to return home.

One night, when Dean had staggered in at one in the morning, face flushed from laughing too hard with his friend, and hair a mess from where they'd been wrestling on the floor, Sam had cocked an eyebrow and curiously asked:

"Are you and Cas dating?"

Dean had frozen, mind fumbling for words.

"Cas is asexual," he had replied and Sam had frowned and shrugged with a _"So?"_

Dean tried again. "I'm not gay," he had stated and Sam regarded him carefully for a few moments before pulling a face and going back to bed with a murmured _"Okay."_

Dean hadn't thought about the conversation again and his friendship with Cas never altered.

Now they were both eighteen and thinking about whether they wanted to go to University or not. Except they weren't really because they already knew they wanted to go to the same University, even if they wished to study separate courses. They had it all planned out; they would share a flat, Dean would get a part time job because he had the least hours in his course and whilst he was at work, Castiel would clean and shop for them both. They would both share cooking responsibilities and anything else could be sorted between them.

So really, they had just come to the park to watch the birds.

A blackbird fluttered to the ground, eying Castiel warily before creeping closer to him to peck at an unsuspecting insect. Castiel quirked a fond smile and Dean couldn't help but allow a small smile of his own stretch across his face at the other boy's enjoyment.

A blue tit stared at them from its spot perched in a high branch and it chirped melodically, so Dean whistled back and it quickly replied with an answering tune.

Castiel chuckled, startling the blackbird so it flew away, and Dean took the opportunity to sit beside his friend as they listened to the surrounding birdsongs.

They relaxed in one another's company for a few minutes, sitting in amiable silence before Dean leaned back on his hands.

"I love you," he said simply and he caught the slow spread of a smile across Castiel's lips.

"I love you too, Dean. Very much."

Dean felt his own smile grow.

"Cool," he said and they fell silent once more as they continued to observe a young thrush tugging furiously at a worm.

"Could I kiss you?" Dean asked curiously, tone light and Castiel glanced at him, their gazes meeting.

"I don't see why not," he replied softly and Dean grinned at him, causing Cas to chuckle.

Then Dean gently pressed their lips together and for the first time ever, Cas found himself leaning into a kiss, eager for more.

Dean hummed in approval and slid a little closer to his friend until he could wrap his arms around the smaller boy, and he was rewarded with Castiel slipping his own arms around Dean's back in an effort to cuddle closer.

Smirking, Dean let himself fall backwards until he was lying on the grass, and he dragged his friend down with him, catching Castiel off-guard.

Cas didn't feel any concern though, because he trusted Dean with all his heart, and when Dean pulled him to his chest to pepper kisses atop his head, Cas' love for his friend only strengthened.

They settled after a few moments, Dean's arms curled protectively around Cas as the shorter boy snuggled into his chest, and they quieted again as Dean began to stroke Castiel's hair.

The thrush gazed defeatedly at the worm's retreating form, and it flew back to its nest, where its mate quickly groomed the dirt from its feathers and cuddled close as they both fell into a contented sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by _Nerukimi_
> 
> Hope this is what you were looking for and thanks for the prompt! :)
> 
> Once again guys, give me a word and a relationship and I'll see what I can do! No limit to number of asks!


	12. President

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've recently been given a brief explanation of how the role of First Lady works in the USA and boy, was I off the mark! XD So instead of changing this fic to something a little more accurate, I'll leave it as it is and give all you Americans something to chuckle about! Feel free to laugh at how naive the English girl from the countryside is ;)

Misha sighed wearily as he ran a hand through his already ruffled hair. It was already one in the morning and he still had paperwork to approve. A figure approached from behind, but Misha didn't flinch. He knew who would be visiting him at this hour even if strictly speaking, they weren't supposed to. Security must have nodded off again. He probably needed to do something about that.

A pair of warm arms slipped around his middle as lips began to press kisses to his neck. Misha sighed again, this time in relief as he bared his neck further.

"Go to bed, Mish," whispered Jensen. "Work will still be here when you wake up."

The older man groaned quietly. "That's the problem. I don't want it to be here when I wake up."

Jensen quirked a smile as he continued to systematically pepper kisses over Misha shoulders, neck and face.

Misha closed his eyes and silence fell between them, only broken by the soft, wet slide of lips over skin.

"Trump's rallying more followers," whispered Misha, voice concerned and Jensen sighed as he stood, pulling Misha with him.

"Everyone's entitled to their opinion, but I assure you: you _will_ win the next election. I promise you the people know you've been good for America this last term, most will want you in again."

Misha pulled a face. "Some of his policies though... Jensen, they frighten me. I mean _water-boarding?_ He wants to bring corporal punishment back to states that have only just rid themselves of it. And what about all the other races and religions that live in America? Is he really going to consider just shipping them off somewhere? What about-"

Jensen crushed their lips together, cutting him off.

When they pulled apart, the younger man cupped his lover's cheek as he stroked a thumb over it, eyes warm yet somehow wise.

"Ignore his campaign. Focus on yours. You'll only get worked up if you don't. What he does is his business. Just tell the public your plans and I promise you things will work out, Mish."

The President blew out a long, troubled breath, but nodded anyway.

"Okay," he murmured and Jensen smiled as he gently pulled him into a hug.

"Now go to bed. You'll be of no use to anyone passed out over your desk."

"Come with me?" Asked Misha quietly and Jensen kissed his temple. 

"Fine, but I'll have to slip out before security rotates."

Misha frowned and glanced up at Jensen. He really didn't want to wake up alone again.

"Stay," he commanded softly and Jensen raised an eyebrow.

"I can't. You know that. If anyone finds out you've been having an affair with one of your advisors for two years, you know how the press'll take it, especially with me being male. I can't do that to your reputation."

Misha hesitated and Jensen frowned at the thoughtful expression.

"Then become my first Gentleman."

Jensen blinked. "Misha, I can't do that. We're of no relation. You can't just promote me because you feel like it. I want to be with you but if a few stolen moments with you are all I can get, then it's enough."

Misha scowled. "But it isn't enough. I don't want to meet up in secret with you all the time. Sometimes I don't see you for days on end." The President shook his head. "I want to be with you, to be held in your arms where everyone can see. I want to kiss you whenever I feel, to hold your hand just because I can. I don't want to keep our relationship a secret forever. I want to show you off," he admitted and Jensen sucked in a quiet breath. It was a tempting thought.

"We can't. Your name would be slandered and I can't have that. I can't let you give up everything you've worked for for me. If you want to win this next election, you have to keep a clean record; you have to stay off Trump's radar otherwise you know he'll target you. Not to mention there are still a lot of homophobes in this country. To find out you've been sleeping with me would set you up for a lot of lost votes."

Jensen carefully twined their fingers together.

"I'd love to be with you like that, to sleep beside you every night without fear of someone catching us, but we simply can't."

Misha paused as he observed Jensen. How unfair was it that the man he loved with all his heart wasn't allowed to be with him? The man who looked after him, helped him with decisions when he really couldn't choose, held him when he became stressed, wasn't allowed to even hold his hand in public?

The President scowled. Why couldn't he have a life too? Why couldn't he have something for himself for once? Why did it always have to be about the people?

Maybe he was being selfish, but he didn't care anymore. This was his life and he was going to do what he pleased with it.

"Marry me," murmured Misha and Jensen blinked before his eyes widened.

"What?"

"Marry me," said Misha again, a little louder this time as he grabbed both his lover's hands.

"...Mish... I... I can't," stuttered Jensen and the older man's brow wrinkled.

"Why not?"

Jensen floundered. "There are too many people out there who won't accept a blatantly gay President! You'll lose too many voters and for what? Just so I can stand beside you during speeches? It's not worth it."

Misha scowled. "Don't you see though? It _is_ worth it. I love you, Jen. You're not just here for decoration; you soothe me when I'm stressed, help me make important decisions when I'm lost, look after me when no one else will. You care for me as a person when all anyone else sees me as is a character of wealth and power. 

"So what if I lose a few votes? This job only lasts four years anyway, maybe eight at most. What then? Do I go back home and try to start a new life as if none of this ever happened? Or do I marry my best friend and lover, and see where life take us?"

Jensen's mouth flapped open and closed for a few seconds before it snapped shut as he gulped.

The pair stared at one another for a few moments before Misha sighed quietly. It seemed to have become a bit of habit as of late.

"I'm sorry. Maybe you already have your life planned out. Maybe you're not that serious about me and thought it was just a bit of fun. It's how this thing between us started out anyway, isn't it?" Misha chuckled hollowly. "Sorry, that was unfair of me to ask you something like that. Forget I ever mentioned it."

And with that, the older man tried to pull away and walk to his bedroom to sleep and hopefully forget about his foolish mistake.

Except Jensen had tightened his grip on Misha's hands.

Misha tugged experimentally before deeming escape impossible and he glanced up at the wide-eyed Jensen with confusion.

"...Yes," gulped Jensen quietly and Misha cocked his head to one side. 

"Yes, I will marry you," whispered the younger man and Misha's eyes blew wide.

"...Really?" He asked, voice hoarse and Jensen nodded slowly, as if still in shock.

Suddenly, Misha whooped and launched himself at his younger lover and Jensen released an breathy chuckle as he tugged the older man to his chest.

They pressed as many kisses to each other's bodies as they could before Jensen was nuzzling Misha's cheek contentedly.

"How could I think this thing between us isn't serious?" He asked, amusement creeping into his tone. "Mish, I've never loved anyone as much as I love you; I don't care how we started. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Misha grinned and captured Jensen's lips in a possessive kiss, practically purring when Jensen wrapped his arms more securely around him.

"You're right," murmured the younger man. "This job doesn't last long and our lives are going to change, but if there's one thing I know, it's that I want to be a part of yours."

Misha beamed at him and Jensen didn't think he'd ever seen his lover so happy.

And he'd been the one to cause it.

He stole a kiss just because he could.

"You really need to fire your security guards," chuckled Jensen and Misha shook his head, lips brushing his lover's.

"Actually, I think I need to thank them."

Jensen grinned as they shared a few more heated kisses.

"I think we need to consummate our engagement," he purred mischievously and Misha smirked. 

"Now that's a policy I can get behind."

So they sauntered through the corridors hand-in-hand, ignoring the sleepy then stunned gazes of security as they vanished into Misha's bedroom, and the next morning, Misha smiled at the sight of his lover curled around him, snoring softly but expression content. The President couldn't remember the last time he'd woken up to someone in his bed; someone who he loved so dearly and he peppered light kisses over his advisor's face, just because he could, before carefully slipping out of bed and sneaking out of one of the White House's windows to buy a ring.

If he was going to announce his engagement publicly, might as well do it right.

He was back in his room before anyone had a chance to realise he'd been missing, and when he silently closed the door behind him, Jensen was just waking up.

The older man smiled affectionately and came to sit beside his lover, and Jensen grinned back at him sleepily before snuggling into his side again.

"Love you," murmured Jensen and Misha felt his heart do backflips. There had been one time where Jensen had turned his nose up at the thought of being with another man. That's how this whole relationship had started; a stressed Misha had challenged Jensen to try something new and not one to back down from a challenge, Jensen had hesitantly agreed. 

The younger man thought their first time would be awkward and stilted, but Misha was as confident with his body as he was during his speeches and Jensen was shocked to find he actually enjoyed the experience. They eventually stumbled into bed together again after a couple of weeks, and soon it had become a regular thing. They just hadn't counted on their feelings for one another growing as well.

"Love you too," Misha whispered as he toyed with the tiny box behind his back. "Think you can sit up for me?"

Jensen stretched and slowly sat upright, leaning on Misha in a way that suggested it was just an excuse to be close to him rather than for support.

Misha flipped open the box and showed it to his lover.

"I know I said it yesterday, but marry me?"

Jensen gasped. It was a simple ring; nothing overly flashy which flaunted Misha's wealth, but there was a small diamond encrusted feather on its surface and Jensen thought it was beautiful.

He pressed his lips to Misha's in a slow, passionate kiss, tasting his future husband as if committing it to memory.

"Yes," he breathed and without breaking apart, Misha slipped the ring over his lover's finger.

"You make me incredibly happy," whispered Misha and Jensen tugged him closer.

"I won't make some of your voters happy," he murmured after a few moments and Misha scrunched up his face in distaste. 

"Well they can think what they like as long as I get to keep you."

"I'm nervous," admitted Jensen quietly and Misha nuzzled at his jaw. 

"I don't have to announce it yet, if you don't want me to?"

Jensen shook his head. "No, I want you to. I want everyone to know you're off the market," he winked, prompting Misha to chuckle. They quickly sobered.

"I'm just nervous how people will react," murmured Jensen as he leaned into his lover, seeking comfort. Misha stroked his lover's stomach.

"I'm sure most will love it. Some won't care either way."

Jensen's expression turned troubled. "Trump's going to have a field day."

Misha hummed dismissively. "Trump can do what he likes. I have other priorities now; ones that don't just involve public opinion." He nuzzled Jensen's hair for emphasis.

"Presidency is a dead-end job. You do two terms at most and everything's over. I don't want my life to end after four to eight years and I don't want yours to be unbearable because someone else takes over."

"I'd have left anyway when you left," muttered Jensen. "I don't want to work for anyone else."

Misha's gaze softened. What had he done to deserve such a loyal human being?

"Announce it next Monday when you do your campaign speech," stated Jensen determinedly. "I want everyone to know you're mine."

Misha smirked as he captured his lover's lips.

"Possessive much?" He teased, but his heart was beating double time at the thought this man before him loved him enough to face his fear and go public.

Jensen chuckled as he pulled Misha to his chest.

"Of you, Mister President? Always."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by _impusle_baker_
> 
> I'm so sorry I forgot to do this one! Hope you enjoyed it though and thanks for reminding me!
> 
> As a young country girl from England, I know next to nothing about American Presidents other than the odd fragments of information the BBC tells me. Feel free to correct or educate me :)

**Author's Note:**

> If you have a word you'd like me to use, pop a comment below and tell me what pairing or moresome (if any) you'd like the ficlet for. 
> 
> If you have a specific request for a fic, I'll see what I can do, but they won't be posted in this work (they may be posted to _Compendium_ ).
> 
> Hope you enjoy these silly little fics! :)


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